Choosers of the Slain
by sentinel28
Summary: FINALLY UPDATED! Louisa has changed her own mission and is returning to friendly lines...but the Word of Blake might have something to say about that. It's the 'Mech-shattering conclusion to the story...after only a year or so of waiting!
1. Fire and Rain

_**CHOOSERS OF THE SLAIN**_

_**A Battletech Short Story**_

_**By Sentinel 28A**_

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: Well, my _Inu-Yasha_ story "The Hunters and the Hunted" seems to be dead on arrival, and I'm still working on ideas for "Down the Well," and I'm still stuck on "Evangelion Evolution"—so…looks like it's time to revisit the Battletech Universe._

_Someone (I think it was Rogue) asked if I was going to do a "Snowbirds of the Future" story with Louisa Arla-Vlata, Sheila and Max's adopted daughter, in action against the Word of Blake Jihad. When I finished "Snowbird Triumphant," the _last _thing I wanted to write was more Battletech, but the more I thought about it, the more I liked it. Then I read John Antal's _Combat Team, The Captains War: An Interactive Exercise in Company Level Command in Battle, _and thought, "Hey, this might serve as a good basis for a Snowbird story!" At first, I freewrote some ideas with Sheila, but decided that a company-level battle for someone who, by the time of this story, commanded two regiments of 'Mechs would be a step down…and thought instead of Louisa. _

_So, here is Louisa's first written adventure. Let's see how this works out…_

_Please note that I may have gotten some details wrong on the WOB Jihad. Living where I do (East Podunk, Montana), my Friendly Local Game Store doesn't carry _any_ Battletech stuff. So aside from occasional trips to game stores back east, I'm as cut off as the Inner Sphere is. This, I think, could work just as well: you're seeing the Wobbies from the Sentinels' POV, and the Sentinels don't really know very much about their enemies._

* * *

_WHAT HAS GONE BEFORE: It is the year 3070. The Word of Blake Jihad is in its third year. _

_It has been 20 years since the end of the Clan War, and thus the Sentinels have been under the command of Sheila Arla-Vlata for that long. Sheila has added to both the legend of her own regiment and herself, in action in virtually every war fought by the Inner Sphere since 3052—the First Taurian Incursion, the Refusal War, Operation Guerrero, Operation Bulldog and the Huntress Campaign, and the FedCom Civil War. Operating from their new base in the Draconis Combine and under contract to a Star League that no longer exists, the Sentinels have been drawn into battle with the Word of Blake—but enough that the WOB has decided to destroy the Sentinels by assaulting their home planet of Virentofta…_

* * *

_Saddle Peak Pass_

_Virentofta, Pesht Military District, Draconis Combine_

_11 September 3070_

It was raining. Louisa Arla-Vlata hated the rain.

For some, the rain was soothing, even restful. Not for Louisa. For her, the rain always awakened demons that she had long since locked into the recesses of her mind—but in the rain, they came back. Jade Falcon Elementals. Fire. Her father, her real father, screaming for everyone to abandon the truck. The feel of the mud beneath her feet and knees as her mother, her real mother, pushed her from the tailgate of the truck. The feel of her sister's hand in hers as they jumped, and the sudden wrenching as her sister was pulled away from her. The shockwave of the explosion of the Elementals' missiles hitting the truck. The feel of heat on her face as fire swept away her parents. And the rain falling on her face as she ran, ran far away, the sight of the rain on her new mother's face. That day, Louisa Keynes had become Louisa Arla-Vlata.

Yes, Louisa had plenty of reasons to hate the rain.

Today, however, she had other reasons. Ahead of her, a green-painted Virentofta Ranger truck was barely discernable through the streaming rain that obscured the asphalt road beneath them. The fact that the road would be very slick mattered little to Louisa, since she was riding in a Lynx hovercraft armored personnel carrier, or to the squad of Sentinels Light Infantry who rode in another Lynx behind them. The Rangers had to slow down, though, which in turn slowed the column. Worse, the road was narrow, hemmed in on either side by thick pine forest. Behind her was the open hatch of the gunner's position, and rain streamed down the ladder to soak everything in the cabin. Louisa stole a glance up the hatchway, seeing the boots of Lance Corporal Malcolm Fox turning as he swieveled the turret left and right. She didn't know Fox, although he wore the same snowy owl patch of the Snowbirds Special Missions Combined Arms Team as she did. Infantrymen and MechWarriors rarely mixed. A raindrop hit her squarely in the nose, and Louisa swore softly as she wiped it off and settled miserably back into her seat.

"Bet you wish you were back in your nice, warm, watertight 'Mech, huh, Lance Commander?" Louisa turned to face Sergeant Maxine Colburn, who was grinning at her discomfiture. Normally, Sergeants didn't talk this way to Lance Commanders, who were officers, but this was the Sentinels, and things were usually pretty informal. It was usually better this way.

Louisa decided to take the mild jab in the spirit it was intended. "Envious, Sarge?"

Colburn nodded, turning the control wheel slightly right to follow the road. "You bet, ma'am. I'd take a heated 'Mech cockpit any day of the week over this crap." She thumbed towards the turret. "Normally, we'd be buttoned up, but the damn hatch jammed the other day, and we haven't had a chance to get maintenance to look at it. They're a little busy at the moment." Louisa imagined so: there was a war on, after all. "You're the Commander's daughter, right?" Louisa nodded. "Huh. How'd you draw shit duty like this, ma'am?"

Louisa was used to that. Her mother—her adopted one—was Sheila Arla-Vlata, the commanding officer of the Sentinels Regimental Combat Team. People sort of assumed, for better or worse, that because she was the commander's daughter that she would get certain privledges. When Louisa had announced to her parents that she intended to follow in their footsteps and become a MechWarrior, her adopted father, Max, had told her that she would get no special treatment. In fact, she would likely get the opposite: people would resent her. She had found both people among the Sentinels, though few who outright hated her and thought that she had pulled strings to not only graduate from the Sentinels training program as a lance commander, but get assigned to her mother's old battalion, the Snowbirds. Louisa had earned both, and if some didn't believe that, that was their problem.

"Oh, you know how it is for us MechWarriors," she responded lightly. "We occasionally want to slum it and see how the other half lives." She smiled to show she meant nothing by it.

"Ha!" Colburn loved it. "Well, if you ever want to trade, ma'am, you just let me know—"

The missile came without warning, streaking from the trees to hit the Ranger truck just under its right side. The explosion sent the truck cartwheeling over to land on its roof. Gunfire raked the column next, and Louisa could hear the bullets striking the armored sides of the Lynx. "Oh shit!" Colburn exclaimed, slamming back the throttle. The Lynx nearly stood on its nose and then slewed around to the right, but narrowly avoided colliding with the burning wreck ahead of it.

"Contact right!" Fox shouted, and the turret rotated to bear on the treeline. There was a hissing noise as three medium lasers laced the pines with ruby beams. Wet wood flashed to steam and the trees exploded, but the gunfire didn't abate.

The sudden ambush had taken her by surprise, and the flames threatened to bring her nightmares to life. Louisa fought down the icy fear in her stomach, grabbed the assault rifle from its stowage on the door next to her, and charged it. The armored plexiglass window next to her starred as a bullet hit it, causing her to jump and duck instinctively below the window. Colburn was trying to get around the Ranger truck, to put the Lynx's armor between it and the treeline. Louisa saw one of the Rangers open the driver's side door and begin to crawl out of the overturned truck, but this only attracted the enemy. Machine gun fire kicked up sparks from the pavement and found the Ranger, whose head exploded in a red and gray mist.

Then another missile shot from the woods and headed directly for the Lynx. Louisa saw it and dived below the instrument panel. The detonation of the missile against the faceted armored front of the APC bounced her around, but the thick parka she wore over her uniform and her helmet saved her from more than bruises. She saw Colburn drop out of her seat, her shoulder bloody. "I'm hit!" she screamed. Louisa saw that the windscreen had cracked and starred under the missile's impact, sending fragments through the cab and into Colburn's shoulder. Bullets thudded against the Lynx, but she heard no shooting from the other vehicle.

_Something's really wrong,_ Louisa thought, then rolled her eyes at her own understatement. The turret above her was silent. She tugged on Fox's pants leg, saw the rivulets of blood streaming down the leg, and pulled Fox down into the Lynx. Most of Fox's head was gone. Bullets spanged off the Lynx. Knowing she had to do something, Louisa climbed over Fox's body and into the turret. She stuck her head out of the turret hatch for a moment, ducked when a bullet whined over her head, but had seen what she needed to see. There were infantry in the trees, and weak sunlight glinted off of metal.

_Manei Domini!_ Louisa had heard of the elite cyborg infantry of the Word of Blake, but had never seen them in person. Fear crawled up in her throat: rumors said that the Domini didn't take prisoners, or those that had been taken didn't live through the torture, and that the Domini were mindless berserkers. With effort, she fought down the fear, gripped the triggers, and began firing into the trees, lacing them with the lasers. The Domini's charge died before it had started.

Louisa risked glancing out of the turret again behind her, to the other Lynx. The hovertank had stopped, but its turret faced forward. The side hatches were open and she saw twelve infantry huddled against the lee side of the Lynx. "Sergeant!" Louisa shouted. A head glanced up. "Get up that goddamn hill and flank them! I'll cover you!"

The sergeant nodded. He turned and yelled at the squad. "You heard the LC! Follow me!" The sergeant ran around the side of the Lynx, sprinting for the slight cover given by a copse of bushes. After a moment's hesitation, the squad followed, taking strength from the sergeant. Louisa turned her attention back to the treeline and held the triggers down, sweeping the triple lasers back and forth until the barrels began to glow from waste heat. Finally the other Lynx began to turn and added their lasers to hers. She stopped firing when she heard the distinctive cracks of the Sentinel infantry's Federated Long Rifles and Ryonex submachineguns. She peeked above the turret and saw the flash of steel as a naginata fell.

The gunfire tapered off to a few shots, then it was silent. After a few moments, Louisa saw the sergeant come out of the treeline, his rifle over his shoulder and a naginata steaming in the cool air. The blade was red. He finally came close enough for her to read his nametape: _Harris._ "Sitrep, Sergeant," she ordered.

"Twelve of them, LC. They didn't want to surrender." He looked at the short naginata, the distinctive collapsible melee weapon of the Sentinels Light Infantry, as if noticing the blood for the first time. "I got two wounded—neither badly." He glanced down. "Sorry, LC. You shouldn't have needed to get us going. I just…froze. I know better than that. I'm a SLI sergeant, for the love of Freud."

Louisa smiled tiredly. "It happens to the best of us."

He met her eyes. "How old are you, LC?"

"Twenty-four."

"Not your first engagement?"

The flames of Vantaa danced in Louisa's mind's eye. "No, Sarge." She sighed. "Leave the bodies, but make sure you disable the weapons. Make sure the other Lynx crew is okay. The infantry compartment of the Lynx was divided from the crew cab; her own hovertank was only carrying supplies. "And see if anyone survived that." She pointed to the overturned Ranger truck.

"Roger that, LC."

Then she remembered Colburn. She climbed back into the cab. "How's it going, Maxine?"

Colburn was pale, and her shoulder was a mass of blood. Louisa gently pushed her hand away and ripped the uniform open. A jagged shard of plexiglass was embedded in Colburn's shoulder. She reached into a box between the seats and withdrew a first aid kit, rapidly opening it and withdrawing a few battle dressings. Louisa packed those around the shard. "I can't pull this out," she informed Colburn.

"Yeah, I know." The eyelids fluttered. "I'm tired…"

Louisa snapped her fingers in front of Colburn's face. "Stay with me. You're going to make it." She stretched the dressings tight, earning a gasp of pain from the other woman, but it would stanch the blood. "Okay?"

"Hurts like hell."

"It's supposed to." Colburn glared at her, but Louisa ignored her. Then Colburn abruptly remembered Fox. "Where's Mal?"

"He's dead. I'm sorry." Louisa tried to feel sorrow for Fox, but she didn't know him, and Louisa long since had learned to be hard when it came to battlefield casualties, for her own sanity.

Both women jumped when the driver's side door opened. Harris stood there, his rifle and naginata slung now. "No one left alive in the truck, ma'am. I got some people policing the bodies. We can't just leave them here."

"That's true. Any intel from the Wobbies?"

"No. No identifying ranks or markings. They had a radio, but it got totaled—or they smashed it. Hell, we wouldn't even know if they were Manei Domini if it wasn't for all the metal on them." He shuddered. "Makes you wonder if they're even human anymore." Louisa almost replied that they bled and died, so they were human enough, but didn't want to upset Colburn any more than she already was. "What's your orders, LC?"

"_My_ orders? What happened to Lieutenant Schultz?"

"Um." Harris glanced involuntarily back at the other Lynx. "The LT's indisposed, ma'am. I think maybe she banged her head on something." Louisa knew instantly: Schultz had frozen and was in shock. She read Harris' eyes and remembered Schultz nervously informing Louisa before they had left the base that she had never been in combat before. There were too many like that in the Sentinels: the regiment had been idle too long after the FedCom Civil War, and only a few units like Gamma Battalion or the Snowbirds had actually been out on operations. There were a lot of Schultzes in the Sentinels, and they would have to learn the lessons that the veterans like Louisa already knew. She chuckled softly, ironically: _I'm a veteran at twenty-four._

But whatever the case, if Schultz was out, that left Louisa in command, and she remembered her mother's words when Sheila Arla-Vlata had sewed on Louisa's lance commander rank tabs: when in command, _command._ "Okay, Sarge. Load the dead into the back of this Lynx." She didn't want the surviving infantry being forced to share close quarters with corpses. "Take Sergeant Colburn here in your Lynx, and find me a new gunner and driver. Then let's get the hell out of here before more Wobbie freaks show up."

"Yes, ma'am." Harris nodded—he didn't want to salute Louisa for fear of snipers—and got an arm around Colburn. "C'mon, Maxine." Colburn opened her mouth to argue, decided against it, and allowed herself to be pulled from the cab. He handed her off to another soldier, then reached in to get Fox. Louisa climbed out and helped him, not looking at what remained of Fox's face. She would have nightmares enough as it was. They wrapped the body in a poncho, and two other soldiers loaded it into the back of the Lynx.

"You saved our ass back there, LC," Harris said suddenly.

Louisa held her hands out, letting the rain wash the blood free. She hadn't noticed it until now. "Well, I wasn't just going to sit there, Sarge." Her hands began to shake.

"No, I mean it." Harris dropped his voice. "Schultz froze, ma'am, and the damn turret locked in place. I got everyone out, but man, when that machine gun opened up, I wasn't going out there for a pension until you put it down and yelled at me."

"There was a machine gun?" Then she remembered. "Oh, that's right." She shrugged. "Well, like I said, I just couldn't sit there." Her hands were now shaking uncontrollably. She stuffed them in her pockets. It happened after every fight she'd ever been in. Louisa knew it was just the adrenaline wearing off, but it seemed like a sign of weakness. "Just doing my best," she finished lamely.

"Your best is pretty good, LC." He slapped her on the shoulder and walked back to his Lynx. Louisa stood there for a moment, in the rain, then shook herself and returned to her Lynx. There was a new driver there, an unsmiling private who gave her a brief nod and steered the Lynx around the burning remains of the truck.


	2. Desperation

_**CHOOSERS OF THE SLAIN**_

_**A Battletech Short Story**_

_**By Sentinel 28A**_

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: Glad to see everyone liked the first chapter! Hopefully this will be more of the same, though there's not a lot of action here; just a lot of exposition. I have to set the stage, doncha know._

_For those who haven't read my earlier Snowbirds Saga, Kahvi Falx is indeed named after the _ElfQuest_ Go-Back chieftess, who also wore her hair in four braids; other than that, their personality couldn't be more different. In the Snowbirds Saga, Kahvi was a fairly inexperienced warrior; here, she's the commander of the Snowbirds. I based her less on a child-woman samurai and more on Ziva David from _NCIS_, to the point of sharing Ziva's habit mangling foreign idioms. (It was too fun to pass up, and I love Ziva. Kahvi has a better excuse, though.) Louisa's wish to wake Kahvi by banging on a frying pan is a little shout-out to Osaka from _Azumanga Daioh; _Priss Musashiya shares the same first name as Priss Asagiri from _Bubblegum Crisis,_ while a few of the place names might be familiar to those who know anything about the _Dragonlance_ series. (Originally, when I plotted this story, I was using a map of Krynn. The map didn't have enough detail, so you get an amalgam of Krynn and my home state of Montana.)_

_REVIEWERS' CORNER:_

_FraserMage: The Sentinels actually ended up working for the Combine after Sheila ran afoul of Katherine Steiner-Davion. As to why the Black Dragons aren't around—well, it's because I don't know anything about them. Since Catalyst went to PDFs, I've been very limited on Battletech products (because I hate PDFs)._

_SulliMike: You ain't seen nothing yet!_

_Bien: As always, good to hear from you, my friend across the Pacific! Thanks for your kind words—actually, I had a short story of mine reviewed by some pretty well known sci-fi authors, who gave me some suggestions. Being a teacher doesn't hurt either. As for the Wobbies, eh, I'll figure something out. _

_Akalon: "Captain's War" is a book. It was written to give US Army commanders some experience in planning battles in a speculative fiction environment. (I found my copy in a used bookstore about 10 years ago.)_

_RogueBaron: No, Max and Sheila are still together. I just gave Louisa Sheila's last name so readers would get the connection. (I actually have a whole backstory for this, including that the Vlatas for some reason trace their lineage matrilineally, but it's too long for here.)_

_ACDoubleEdge and NovelTigger: Thanks! I hope you like this chapter too._

* * *

_Belgrade_

_Virentofta, Pesht Military District, Draconis Combine_

_11 September 3070_

Another hour and two cloudbursts later, the Lynxes pulled into the assembly area of the Snowbirds SMCAT. The rain had stopped—sort of. What remained was a foggy drizzle. Louisa had been to Belgrade before, and knew the view was magnificent when the sun was out: the city was built on a plain surrounded by towering mountains to the east and south, and covered by a sky that the locals boasted was the biggest in the galaxy. Both were hidden in the gray, low clouds. It merely contributed to the misery.

Harris had radioed ahead, and there was a tracked ambulance, what the soldiers called a band-aid, already waiting. Louisa left her Lynx and went back to help offload the wounded. Maxine Colburn was brought out on a stretcher, and Louisa took her IV bag as four others levered the stretcher through the narrow opening in the Lynx's rear. "How you feeling, Sergeant Coburn?" Louisa felt bad about being so abrupt with Coburn at the ambush site. She knew she wasn't the friendliest person in the regiment, but wondered if she had been unnecessarily harsh.

"Like shit," Coburn replied. Some color had come back in her face.

"Well, get better. I might need a driver if I ever get promoted."

Coburn returned the slight smile. "I dunno, LC. Every time I've driven with you, you get ambushed." They shared a laugh at that. Louisa gently shook hands with Coburn, then got out of the way as the medics arrived. Her part in this was done, other than filling out an after-action report. She asked one of the medics where the command post was, and was directed generally north.

"Hey, Arla-Vlata!" Harris jogged over to her.

Heads turned at that, half-expecting to see the regimental commander. Seeing an average-height redhead instead of a tall brunette, they shrugged and went back to work. "What can I do for you, Sergeant?" Louisa replied.

"Just wanted to thank you again."

"No problem." Louisa saw Lieutenant Schultz being helped from the second Lynx. The lieutenant was paler than Coburn, her eyes staring at nothing. "What will happen to her?"

Harris shrugged. "I don't know. She'll probably be given another chance. Or sent home." He shrugged again. "Kinda hard. It's not her fault. Hell, I pissed myself the first time I heard a shot fired—and that was in basic." He grinned at her, trying to take away her attention from the disgraced lieutenant. "Hey, LC. I don't know what you're doing down here, but if you ever need a platoon of light infantry, you let me know."

"Will do, Sarge." They exchanged salutes—here, they were safe, hopefully—and Harris went back to his troops. Louisa continued on to the CP.

* * *

The assembly point held only a portion of the Snowbirds that Louisa could see; the battalion was probably spread out over a good distance to keep Blakist aerofighters from finding them. This was where tanks and BattleMechs were brought back for rest and refit. What had been an open, grassy plain had been churned to mud by hundreds of feet, both human and mechanized, and the rain had only made the mud slicker and deeper. Her boots, which she had shined enough to see her reflection in, were soon rendered a dull brown, and her steps made disgusting sucking noises as she walked. To make matters worse, the detritus of a battalion littered the ground: food cartons, cigarette butts, discarded water bottles, parts boxes, ammunition cans. Louisa smiled a little. If this had been Gamma Battalion, the area would be ruthlessly clean: Danielle Blackthorn was fanatic about the environment to the point of irritating everyone around her; Kahvi Falx, commanding the Snowbirds, was more circumspect about a battalion at war. The whole place smelled of sweat, lubricants, cordite, fuel, and urine, overlaid with the sweet smell of the pine trees that surrounded the area. She wrinkled her nose at it, though Louisa figured she should be used to it by now. Most assembly areas smelled like this.

Louisa also noticed that the Snowbirds had been hit hard in her absence. Various 'Mechs were scattered around under camouflage tarps in states of disrepair or damage. Louisa spotted an _Archer_, one of the new versions of the venerable 'Mech, with most of its right side missing. From the coincentric pattern of the damage, she instantly identified the hit as a massive Autocannon/20. Another 'Mech, a _Cereberus_, was nearly hidden behind a metal frame, with large lead sheets hung off the frame. Four techs were swaddled in heavy suits, and a crane moved above them: the techs were changing the engine. That was unusual. Engine changes were usually done in a full 'Mech bay, and Belgrade had one down the road. That meant that the Snowbirds had had so many 'Mechs damaged or destroyed that the bays were swamped. It was not a good sign. Louisa hoped her own lance was all right.

Finally, she found the CP. It was under a copse of pine trees and more camouflage netting, with a Hawkslayer air defense vehicle parked outside, its radar whirring around. The command post itself consisted of four big tents linked together, with a mass of cables snaking out from it to a Pegasus hovertank, its fusion engine providing power. That would be Major David Moore's machine; the other commanders had their 'Mechs parked elsewhere or were gone, she noted. It made sense. Falx piloted a distinctive _Sunder,_ and the presence of that 'Mech would be a dead giveaway of the CP's position.

Louisa entered the CP. She quickly found Kahvi Falx, who was sound asleep next to a computer. The staff acknowledged her with a nod, if that; she was well-known, of course. They simply moved around Falx, going about their duties while their commander napped. Louisa smothered a smile. Kahvi was wrapped in her winter parka, though it wasn't quite that cold, and she had her head down on a collapsible desk, her pleasant face framed by the four braids she habitually wore. Even in the heat of combat, she had taken the time to put on makeup, feathering her eyeshadow around her right eye in the Steiner fashion that, like her braids, was her trademark. Though Kahvi had just turned forty and was now married with a child, she still looked childlike herself.

Louisa crept up behind her, tempted to clap loudly or something; she had the mad desire for a frying pan to bang on. Brefudd Dari, Kahvi's aide, fixed with a look that said she'd damned well better not. Instead, she settled for bending over and blowing gently on Kahvi's right ear. Kahvi stirred, slapped at her ear as if to swat a fly, then opened her eyes. Next her head came up slowly, she blinked, and her eyes settled on Louisa. "Good morning, Commander," Louisa said.

"Uh?" Then Kahvi came awake, blinking. "_Oi_. _Konnichi wa, Louisa-san._" She rubbed her eyes. "_Ohayo. Ikaga desu ka?"_

"English, Kahvi," Dari supplied from around the corner, winking at Louisa.

"Oh." She finally came fully awake. "Right. Terribly sorry, Louisa…I think I'm going on three hours of sleep, perhaps?"

"Would you like some tea?" Dari asked. At Kahvi's grateful nod, he looked at Louisa. "Tea or coffee?"

"Coffee, please."

"You look like hell, Louisa." He motioned at the dried blood on her jacket and pants as he poured their cups.

"Yeah, about that." Louisa pointed at the holomap in the center of the CP. "We got ambushed on the Saddle Peak road. Manei Domini."

Kahvi nodded tiredly. "We heard over the radio. I've some helos heading in that direction, and we will spare some militia to go look." Kahvi caught Louisa's look and her voice sharpened. "We do not have SLI to spare, Louisa. The Virentofta Militia is about all the reserve we have left." She accepted the steaming mug of tea from Dari. "What kept you?"

"I'm sorry I'm late," Louisa began. "I was at that skating meet on Richmond. We didn't hear about the Wobbies hitting Virentofta until four days ago. I got back as quick as I could." Louisa didn't feel like describing the hair-raising dive the DropShip had made into Virentofta's atmosphere at a speed that was distinctly unsafe. The Wobbies had a destroyer in orbit, though the Combine had countered with a frigate, and Virentofta was rumored to still have about two hundred Star League-era shipkiller nuclear missiles buried about. Nobody knew if the rumor was true, much less the Word of Blake, and Sheila Arla-Vlata wasn't about to enlighten them one way or the other. "Mom met me at the DropPort, said you needed me down here in the worst way, and here I am. I hitched a ride with the SLI." Louisa had been troubled by her mother's words. Yes, she was the Commander's Daughter, but she was just a lance commander, albeit one of the best ones in the battalion, if her fitness reports were correct. She simply wasn't that indispensable; no lance commander and few company commanders were. "I didn't really get time for a decent sitrep—I know the Wobbies landed onplanet, of course, but that's about it. Mom told me to organize transport and get my ass down here. What's the news?"

Kahvi took a drink of her tea, got to her feet with a groan, and walked over to the holotank. She brought up a map of Virentofta's central continent. "All of it is bad, I'm afraid. When the Clans used to hit us here, they had the decency to confine themselves to one landing zone. The Wobbies have hit us in three different places—north of Vingaard Keep, east of Last Chance, and south of Sancrist. We've identified two separate divisions and one mercenary regiment—not sure of the WOB divisions yet, though we think the one down here is the 7th, but the mercenaries are the Tooth of Ymir. No great style as a regiment, but no pushovers either, yes?"

Louisa peered at the map and gave the Blakists credit: the fact that the Clans had always chosen one big dropzone meant that the Sentinels had always been able to corral them, build a perimeter, and then go on the offensive. The Blakists had landed in three different places, pulling apart the defenses, and threatening the three cities the Sentinels simply _had_ to defend: Vingaard Keep, since it was Sheila's headquarters; Last Chance, the planetary capital; and Sancrist, the largest city. From the map, Louisa could see that the Sentinels were also divided, with Alpha and Delta Battalions holding Vingaard, Gamma and Delta Sancrist, with Senefa Malthus' Clan Sentinel holding Last Chance. That left the Snowbirds as the sole unit of the Sentinels who were available for offensive operations. Virentofta's mountains kept the Sentinels from assisting each other directly, though they also kept the Blakists from coordinating their operations. She looked closer and saw a single blue circle surrounded by Blakist forces. "Who're these poor bastards?"

"That, Louisa, is the problem—and the reason you are needed down here besides taking command of your lance." Kahvi rubbed her eyes. "What you are looking at there is a full battalion of the Virentofta Militia. They got cut off when the Wobbies did something none of us anticipated." She pointed to Last Chance. "We expected that the Wobbies would drive on the capital and have the bulk of their forces there, with just light forces screening us down here. After all, we have the Vingaard River between us and the WOB dropzone, and it is 200 kilometers to the dropzone from Belgrade—while it is only 60 kilometers to Last Chance. Senefa gave them a bloody nose on the first day, but we've since learned that was one battalion basically probing to see if there was anything besides militia defending the capital. Their main forces were actually coming down here—coming for us, trying to knock the Snowbirds out of the campaign. We collided at Three Forks." Kahvi sighed. "I do not know who got the worst of that engagement. We halted the Wobbies, certainly, but paid a price, as you probably saw outside." She held up a hand at the look of concern on Louisa's face. "Your lance is fine. Senior MechWarrior Habersohn has been commanding Alpha Light in your absence.

"The problem is, the commander of the 63rd Infantry Battalion tried to circle around and strike the Wobbies from the rear while the Snowbirds advanced from the front. He did this without my knowledge, though I would have approved it. When we were…forced to retreat…" Louisa saw the pain in Kahvi's face; though she had long since abandoned her Kuritan heritage when she changed her name from Kimiko Matsushima to Kahvi Falx, Kahvi still considered herself very much a samurai, and saw retreat as dishonorable. "…they were cut off before they could get back across the river. Since the battle, the Wobbies have been concentrating on them. Of course, they have to. The 63rd is sitting on their supply line."

"Poor bastards," Louisa repeated. The 63rd was dead: light infantry and a few tanks would never stand up against a 'Mech battalion or even a company for long. The Blakists would clean up their rear areas, then either renew their offensive against the Snowbirds or against Last Chance. Still, there was an opportunity there that she could see, and knew her mother had: while the WOB was overrunning the 63rd, that would give the Snowbirds time to rest, refit, and attack in a few days, or for Senefa to sortie out of Last Chance. Clan Sentinel was small—basically a reinforced company—but they were made up of former Clan MechWarriors who had defected to the Inner Sphere as Senefa had, or been dishonored, or, in the case of the freebirths, simply got tired of the harsh treatment they received from the genetically-enhanced "trueborn" Clanfolk. Senefa offered them an opportunity to fight, and many knew there was nothing else left—and as a result, they were fanatic fighters, able to inflict damage far beyond their numbers on paper. The fact that they were the only unit in the Sentinels equipped wholly with captured Clantech didn't hurt. Either way, the 63rd was a writeoff, but at least their sacrifice would mean something.

Louisa abruptly noticed that Kahvi had watched the play of emotions on her face and knew exactly what the younger woman was thinking. Kahvi sadly shook her head with a small smile. "You are a poor poker player, Louisa."

"If you're thinking that _I_ was thinking that it sucks to be the 63rd and they're dead meat, then you're right…ma'am," Louisa added hastily. She and Kahvi were old friends and could be informal, but Kahvi was still her commanding officer.

"And you are not wrong, Louisa…except for the political aspect of this." Kahvi sighed and turned back to the map. "As you are undoubtedly aware, having attended secondary school and college on this planet, we are not entirely popular here." Louisa nodded: while the Sentinels tended to be popular amongst the people of Virentofta, who always remembered the Sentinels as the ones who had liberated them from the Clans, they were not as popular amongst the politicians of the planet. The latter saw the Sentinels as having long since worn out their welcome, as little more than occupiers for the Draconis Combine, which had never been welcome on Virentofta, and tended to blame the Sentinels for the constant Clan attacks on the planet. They undoubtedly blamed the Sentinels for the WOB attacking, and there was some truth to that.

"In any case," Kahvi continued, "we simply cannot abandon the 63rd to their fate. If we did, the peace faction in the planetary government would claim that we will fight to the last Virentoftan, while the Sentinels preserve their numbers to be employed elsewhere. The same 'hiresword' mantra we've heard entirely too often, I'm afraid."

Louisa snorted. "Maybe they'd enjoy Wobbie hospitality, then."

"Perhaps, but that is not up to us to decide. So we must rescue the 63rd—and not just for the political reasons. Those are brave men and women, Louisa, and they are worth the attempt."

"Yes, ma'am." Louisa didn't think so, but as Kahvi said, it wasn't up to her. "So I guess Alpha Light will be taking point, then."

Kahvi looked distinctly uncomfortable, and Louisa caught Dari with the same expression, and more than a few quick glances from other people in the tent, in her direction. "Not exactly," Kahvi amended. "Ah, I mean, yes, Alpha Light will likely be taking point for Alpha Company, but…"

Louisa suddenly had a horrible feeling. "What?"

"Alice Atikokan was wounded last night. The Wobbies launched a probe north of Three Forks. We repulsed it, but Alice was hit. She'll be all right, but she sustained a concussion and three broken ribs. She's in hospital."

"Oh, no." Louisa felt sympathy for and liked Alice Atikokan, the fifty year-old commander of Alpha Company, but her words were not for Atikokan, but herself. She knew what was coming next.

"You _are_ the next senior lance commander," Kahvi stated.

"But…no, I'm not! What about Allison Gayheart?"

"Out of action with two broken legs from the battle at Three Forks."

"John Lawson?"

"Missing, presumed dead."

"Well, what about Beta Company? Why can't they command this thing?"

"Because they're needed elsewhere." Kahvi put her hands on Louisa's shoulders. "You're next in order of command, Louisa. I have no one else, and frankly there is no one I trust more."

"But I've only been a lance commander for three years! I'm only twenty-five!"

"Your mother was nineteen when she took command of the entire Snowbirds battalion."

"I'm not my mother, Kahvi." Louisa had secretly thought that her adopted grandfather, Calla, had been crazy to give a battalion to a nineteen year old. Even Sheila admitted that a lot of her success during the Clan War had been pure luck.

"What does that matter? You are in command of Alpha Company, Louisa, until either Atikokan or Gayheart return from hospital. I will hear no more on the matter, yes?"

"Yes, ma'am." Louisa took a deep breath. She was being thrown into the deep end this time. "So do I have a plan?"

"I will lead the details to you, naturally." That was the Sentinels' style: subordinates were told what they were needed to do, not how to do it. "But in broad strokes, your job will be to get to the 63rd Battalion, link up with them, and hold until relieved. The Snowbirds are attacking at 1400 tomorrow afternoon, in conjunction with Clan Sentinel and the 47th Battalion of the Virentofta Militia launching diversionary attacks from Last Chance and Whitehall. We will break through and relieve you, establishing a new line here, at Toston." Louisa nodded. That didn't seem too bad. Of course, if the Snowbirds couldn't break through, the WOB would probably fend off the Snowbirds with one hand while smashing the 63rd and Louisa's force flat with the other. If Louisa was being given all of Alpha Company, then Kahvi would basically only have two reinforced companies to work with.

"Why can't the Snowbirds just attack now, or tell the 63rd to pull their heads in and wait?" Louisa asked.

"They will not last that long. And the Snowbirds need another eighteen hours to repair our damage. You saw that coming in." Kahvi fixed her with a stare. "You will need to jump off no later than midnight."

_Oh, great. Night action._ Few MechWarriors liked fighting in the dark, when one depended on sensors that could be jammed or fooled far easier than eyesight, and turning on searchlights was just asking to get shot. She checked her watch: it was 1800, six o'clock. That left her six hours to plan and get everything together. It didn't improve her mood any. "Who's my second in command going to be?"

"Priss Musashiya. You'll have your own lance, of course."

Louisa wasn't sure what to make of that. Having her own lance would be nice; at least there would be familiar faces. Priscilla Musashiya—who everyone called Priss for short, which she wasn't-Louisa didn't know, except by reputation, which was that she could be a handful. Musashiya had joined the Sentinels just before the FedCom Civil War, and tended to move in her own circles; she was an assault 'Mech pilot, and they rarely mixed with the "lights," such as Louisa's lance. MechWarrior cliques could be as exclusive as high school girls', and sometimes just as mean. "Air support?"

"None." Kahvi smiled sympathetically. "For one thing, they have taken their own losses, and they are needed more at Vingaard and Sancrist, where the threat is higher. The Wobbies here do not seem to have much in the way of air support of their own."

"And weather's going to be a factor too," Dari put in, handing Louisa a printout. "Fog tonight, with scattered rain, possibly freezing temperatures, and low cloud bases. Naturally, we've got mountains around here, and the flyboys aren't keen about flying in them when the weather's shit. It's supposed to burn off by noon tomorrow, and we'll get some air support then, even if it's just Attack Helicopter Five's Yellowjackets and Pintos."

"Awesome sauce," Louisa grumped. This just kept getting worse.

"It is an improvement, actually," Kahvi added. "The last 48 hours, it has rained cows and dogs. The rivers are at flood stage." She suddenly winced. "Ah, I mean _cats_ and dogs. Raining cats and dogs." Non-Japanese idioms still troubled Kahvi when she was tired.

Louisa smiled despite herself. "Artillery?"

"That you will have," Kahvi reassured her. "All I can give you. In fact, you'll have both 'Mechs of Alpha Fire, Morrison's _Spartan_ and Okueyungbo's _Catapult._ Three batteries of Arrow IVs."

That was something, at least. The Arrow IV was a highly accurate artillery missile, capable of saturation fire, cluster attacks—which would mBrittanyer infantry—and every MechWarrior's private nightmare, homing shots. The thought of a missile the size of a small house and packed with high explosives following a laser into one's 'Mech was enough for any MechWarrior to suddenly take artillery very seriously. "Wait, _both_ 'Mechs? What happened to the other two of Alpha Fire?" Kahvi's expression told all. "Oh."

"I will also try and get you some regular tube artillery—155 millimeters—from the militia. Use the artillery sparingly," Kahvi warned. "The reason I say that is because the Wobbies have proved themselves very good about triangulating our artillery positions. Whenever they fire, they have to move almost immediately. As expected from a group of people who basically worships technology, the Wobs have also proven themselves good at jamming. You may not get too many chances to use the artillery."

"I thought you liked me," Louisa quipped miserably. "This sounds like a suicide mission, you know."

"It is not, I assure you." Kahvi wasn't very good at playing poker either; her face showed that, while it might not be a suicide mission, she didn't care for sending the daughter of one of her best friends on it.

"What're we up against?" Louisa asked, hoping that there was some good news somewhere.

"The 7th Division of the Word of Blake," Dari replied. "We think. The Wobs have been hiding their numbers and designations. In any case, mostly medium and heavy 'Mechs along with tanks and infantry. They've got those Manei Domini cyborg freaks, but they're using them mainly to raid our rear areas—and they may be ugly looking, but artillery blows them apart like everyone else. That's the good news." _Figures,_ Louisa thought. "The bad news is the Celestials. Blakist OmniMechs. Doesn't sound too bad, but they've got some new weaponry on them. Nothing too horrible—no worse than Clanners, anyway."

"Yeah, but Clantech can be pretty horrible."

"True. Anyhow, most of the Celestials that we've identified are heavy and assault machines, and their pilots are damn good. Luckily, it doesn't look like they've got too many of them, and if the 7th has any brains, they'll have them deployed north, facing Senefa's Clan Omnis. Still, we ran into a few of the bastards at Three Forks, so be careful—but they die the same as any other 'Mech." Dari grinned. "I nailed one of 'em with my axe, and he went down and went boom nicely." That was helpful; Louisa's own 'Mech was a _Nightsky,_ and it had an axe too.

"In any case, we doubt you will be facing Celestials. As Brefudd said, they're likely facing Senefa up north. It is one of the reasons we are sure you can break through to the 63rd."

"What are the others?"

"If you don't, we're screwed." Dari's grin grew wider, though there wasn't a lot of humor in it.

"Yes. Or rather, the 63rd is," Kahvi amended. "At last report, they were down to two reinforced companies, seventeen kilometers behind the lines, and surrounded. They have food and water, but little medical supplies and ammunition. It is up to you, but I recommend taking a supply of both with you."

"I'll try."

"Do what you can." Kahvi took a packet from Dari and handed it to Louisa. "Your codename is Task Force Valkyrie. Maps, intel and orders of battle, plus written authorization for you to take command."

"Priss doesn't know?"

"Not yet. I haven't had a chance to inform her." Kahvi touched Louisa's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Louisa. Truly. I know this is sudden, but you're the best I have left. Just get to those troops as fast as you can. We'll be along as fast as _we_ can. We will relieve you. You have my word on that."

From most other people, Louisa might have dismissed that as hyperbole; too many people had promised her things and never delivered. From Kahvi, though, she meant every word; she was samurai, even if she wore no swords and had renounced her Kuritan lineage. It was a state of mind. She would drive the Snowbirds into hell to get to Louisa, and the Snowbirds would go there willingly.

"Okay…I mean, yes, ma'am." Louisa felt suddenly very young and small.

Kahvi hugged her. "May Buddha's light shine upon you."

"Um…thanks." Louisa turned and went to leave, then stopped on the threshold of the tent. "Commander Falx?"

"Yes?" Kahvi had turned back to the holomap, and regarded Louisa over her shoulder.

"Do my parents know about this?"

"No. Should they?"

Louisa smiled. "No." She was glad for that. She didn't want her parents worrying. Kahvi knew it as well. She had to be Lance Commander Arla-Vlata now, not Louisa Arla-Vlata. She saluted and left the tent.


	3. With Friends Like These

_**CHOOSERS OF THE SLAIN**_

_**A Battletech Short Story**_

_**By Sentinel 28A**_

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry it took so long to update. Midterms. Here's a long chapter to compensate._

_In this chapter, Louisa learns the ups and downs of command. Mainly downs. I'm hoping that she doesn't come off as a clone of Sheila, but that her inexperience—and the feel of living in the shadow of famous parents—comes through here. And for the techie fans, there's a little order of battle in here for you too._

_The objective names (Gina, Brittany, Brianna) are the Diggers sisters from _Gold Digger_. Had to throw a little homage towards my favorite comic. _

_REVIEWERS' CORNER:_

_FraserMage: Actually, I kind of like _not_ knowing what's going on the Jihad. Since this story is from Louisa's point of view, all she knows is what she's heard from rumors. The Wobbies in this story aren't like the Jade Falcons or even the Smoke Jaguars in the Snowbird stories. They're a faceless enemy. (But the help is appreciated. I might call on it when I get up to 'Mech combat.) As far as the Tooth of Ymir goes—one, the Sentinels could be wrong; two, the Wobbies could be disguising their units again, or three, this story might not be canon._

_SulliMike: Oh, it gets worse in this chapter._

_Rogue: Well, the artillery can still shoot at night…they'd just better have a good forward observer._

_PacificUser: I appreciate it, but the last time I "visited" the MechWarrior universe was actually January of this year, when I put the finishing touches on "Snowbird Triumphant." (Don't know if you read that yet.) I haven't heard of the reboot, though I hope it doesn't happen. I started playing Battletech when the Clan invasion started, so I have fond memories of that time. While I thought the Jihad was kind of stretching things a bit (the Wobbies fielding 20-30 divisions all of a sudden—and nobody noticed? Everyone gives up their 'Mechs on Devlin Stone's say-so?), I was willing to go with it. I don't intend to send _my_ characters back to the 4__th__ Succession War. That story has been told. It sounds to me that the dinosaur effect is still around in Battletech (i.e. "We don't want anything new! The Clans ruined it!") But that's just me. (And the music corner is back!)_

_ACDoubleEdge: Bloody is right! This chapter might not appeal, but the next few will…_

_MUSIC CORNER: Sorry, PacUser, couldn't fit in Basil Poledouris. However, I think "Crockett's Theme" from the _Miami Vice_ soundtrack will work, as will "Optimus" from the _Transformers _soundtrack. (In the last chapter, though, I could definitely see "Approach to Shadizaar" from _Conan the Destroyer._) _

* * *

_Snowbirds Assembly Area, Belgrade_

_Virentofta, Pesht Military District, Draconis Combine_

_11 September 3070_

Louisa walked to the part of the assembly area where her ersatz company was supposed to be. The drizzle had increased to a light rain—not enough to soak her, just enough to annoy. Her boots and the bottom of her pants legs were now hopelessly muddy, but so was everyone else's.

It occurred to her that she didn't even know what she was commanding. Snowbirds Alpha Company had four lances, like the other Sentinels companies, instead of the normal three, but Kahvi had mentioned that she was keeping what was left of Alpha Fire, the artillery lance, back behind the lines. That made sense, since the artillery 'Mechs weren't able to do much when their Arrow IVs were out of ammunition. That would leave her with three lances—Alpha Command, Alpha Assault, and her own Alpha Light. She got under a tree and opened the packet. On top was a printed sheet with her order of battle:

_**TASK FORCE VALKYRIE**_

_Command Lance__ (Green)_

_Lance Commander (brevet Major) Louisa Arla-Vlata, __Nightsky_

_MechWarrior Robert Habersohn, Black Hawk (Nova)_

_MechWarrior Yurika Misumaru, __Valkyrie_

_MechWarrior Hitomi Dunn, __Spider_

_Assault Lance__ (Wolf)_

_Lance Commander Priss Musashiya, __Awesome_

_MechWarrior Faye Mido, __Mauler_

_MechWarrior Kagome Sentinel, __Masakari (Warhawk)_

_MechWarrior Edward Redrock, __Flashman_

_Elemental Hunter __(Bunny)_

_Lieutenant Roland Pryce, Demolisher MBT_

_Sergeant Trina Smith, Schrek HSV_

_Sergeant Molly Connell, Peltast HSV_

_Sergeant Ash Weltjens, Ontos HSV_

_Rifles __(Red)_

_Lieutenant Carl Fencer, Lynx LHAPC_

_Sergeant Granville Shade, Lynx LHAPC_

_Sergeant Pollyanna Eastwood, Lynx LHAPC_

_Sergeant Ray Derrenbacker, Lynx LHAPC_

_Engineers__ (Shovel)_

_Sergeant William Dore, 4 Aardvark CEV_

Louisa's heart had sank long before this, but she figured it was now somewhere in her boots. While her own lance was intact, the assault lance was a mix of MechWarriors she knew from Alpha Command and Alpha Assault. While having the big assaults with her was good—especially the monstrous Clantech _Masakari_—they were all slower than her slowest 'Mech, Misumaru's _Valkyrie_. Alpha Light's machines were fast, the better to both scout with and hunt down other scouts.

To make matters worse, she had never commanded tanks. She had nothing against tankers—or "treadheads," as MechWarriors named them—but knew that the ones assigned to Task Force Valkyrie were slow. The Lynxes, on the other hand, were faster than her 'Mechs. She couldn't even guess why a platoon of Aardvark engineering vehicles was being attached, either. Basically, she had a conglomeration of 'Mechs and tanks with differing speeds, different purposes, and MechWarriors and crews who belonged to the same battalion, but almost never worked together. Louisa looked up into the cloudy sky. "Not funny, God."

A cosmic joke or not, she had her orders, and Louisa trudged on, back out into the rain, which was now starting to really come down.

* * *

Louisa walked into the tent that held the commanders of her ersatz force. She recognized Roland Pryce, Carl Fencer, William Dore, and especially Priss Musashiya, but she didn't really know any of them. They knew her, though. She didn't like the feeling the room gave off. _Great,_ Louisa groaned silently, _they know._ There wouldn't be any way to break it to them gently. Either Kahvi had told them in a misplaced effort to make things easier, or Task Force Valkyrie had learned the old-fashioned way, through the rumor mill, the fastest communication known to man.

"We don't have a lot of time, so I'm not going to soft-soap it," Louisa announced. "You all know me—I'm Louisa Arla-Vlata. Commander Falx has put me in command of this task force. I've been brevetted Major."

Musashiya stepped forward. She was the same height as Louisa, rangy and thin, her red hair and blue eyes in direct contrast to her Asian features. Those eyes were bright with exhausted rage. "Why?" she demanded. "Why you?"

"Because I'm the last lance commander who isn't a casualty," Louisa shot back. "I take it then you know what we're supposed to do?"

"Not yet," Fencer spoke up. He was the oldest one there, in his mid-fifties, one of the true "old heads" whose service dated back to before the Clan War. "We were just told to get together." He thumbed behind him. "Everyone else is at dinner. We were told to meet the task force commander here." His tone was neutral.

Louisa's stomach abruptly reminded her that she hadn't eaten in the past twelve hours. It would have to wait. "Okay…" She took a deep breath, aware of everyone's eyes dissecting her every move. "We're supposed to jump off, march across the Vingaard River, and rescue the 63rd Infantry Battalion of the Virentofta Militia, then hold until relieved by the rest of the Snowbirds." The other four exchanged glances; there was no fear there, but there was plenty of concern.

"Who the fuck came up with that brilliant idea?" Musashiya growled.

_Easy, _Louisa cautioned herself. _She's tired. Don't go punching your subordinates in the face._ "Commander Falx's, I believe." Louisa sighed. "Look, we don't have time to discuss whether or not it's a good idea. We just have to do it." She ignored Musashiya's look of exasperation, walked forward, withdrew a map from the packet and spread it out on a table. "They're here, south of Toston, on Hill 5423. We're here. We've got to figure out how to get there, and we've got about six hours to figure it out. We're supposed to go at midnight."

"_Tonight_?" Pryce groaned. "Son of a bitch! We just came off ops _last_ night. My men have barely had any time to eat and do routine maintenance. The Wobbies are all over the damn place. Why do we get all the good shit?"

Fencer laughed. "Because the universe hates you, Roland."

"Fuck you, old man—"

"Knock it off!" Louisa snapped. There was a time and place for good-natured, or not so good-natured ribbing, and this wasn't it. Both men quieted.

Fencer stepped in. "What's the 63rd's strength?"

"Not good. They're down to two reinforced companies, low on ammunition. The Wobbies plan on snapping them up in the morning, then coming after us."

"Poor bastards." Fencer had spent his career transporting infantry, and felt closer to them than the regular tankers or MechWarriors. "What's your plan, Major?"

Louisa hadn't really thought of one, but she grabbed a pen from a pocket. "Well…I figure there's three ways we can do this." She scratched three arrows on the map, labeling from north to south, _Gina, Brittany,_ and _Brianna._ Brianna was the southernmost, shortest, and most direct route—straight up Highway 90, Virentofta's Main Supply Route, crossing the Vingaard at Three Forks, then angling straight north to Hill 5423. Brittany, the center route, crossed the Highway 286 bridge at Clarkston, from which it was more or less a direct shot west to the objective. Gina was a ford below the Toston Dam, nearly twenty kilometers north of Hill 5423, from which the force could turn south to reach the hill.

Pryce leaned over. "Highway 90 is the only way—Brianna, I guess. 286 is too narrow. That's the way we had to retreat yesterday, and we got all shot up."

"Roland's right," Musashiya added. "We're going to take Brianna. We know that ground well, and the bridges there are wide and reinforced for 'Mechs."

"It's also the most obvious avenue of approach," Louisa countered. "That's where the Snowbirds will make their main push tomorrow, and the Wobbies will have it covered." She tapped Route Brittany. "This takes us right there and we can approach it without being seen, down these coulees."

"Except, of course, by the Wobbies who are besieging Hill 5423 as soon as we reach Clarkston, assuming they haven't put a listening post in the village," Musashiya returned, voice full of sarcasm. "They'll see us coming, and they'll chop us up going across the river, or in the hills just beyond it. We don't even know if that bridge is even still there. If I were the Wobbies, I'd blow that bridge to keep us from using it."

"Last report said the bridge was still up," Louisa replied.

"And how old is that report?"

"Six hours," Louisa admitted, a bit sheepishly.

Musashiya spread her hands in a there-you-are gesture. "Doesn't matter. We'd never even make it across the river."

"All right, fine," Louisa said. "What about Gina?"

"It's a ford. The Vingaard's too wide for 'Mechs to jump—for my 'Mechs, anyway—and it's swollen because of the rain, which means the current's going to be too strong. Anyhow, the tanks can't ford it. Anyone who can read a map can see that it's Highway 90—Brianna-or nothing." She leaned in towards the map. "Now, here's how we'll approach Three Forks. We can use our skirmish line as cover, and…" Her voice trailed off as she felt Louisa glaring at her. "What? Did you want to add something?"

Louisa barely kept her anger under control. "Yes, I would, _Brevet_ _Lance Commander_ Musashiya." With her head, Louisa indicated the door to the tent. Musashiya sighed, pushed off from the table, and followed her out into the rain. They walked a few paces out of earshot, then Musashiya crossed her arms over her breasts. "What can I do for you, _Brevet Major?_" Musashiya challenged, using the same emphasis as Louisa had.

Louisa turned around. "You can tell me what the hell you're thinking, Priss." She stabbed a finger at the tent. "If you pulled that kind of insubordination with any other commander, you'd be out of a job. If you tried it with Senefa Malthus, you'd be coughing up your teeth. What is your malfunction?"

"My malfunction?" Musashiya stepped forward. "My _malfunction,_ Louisa, since we're apparently on first-name basis now, is that I think you're a jumped-up little shit who's been given this command because your mother happens to be Sheila the Almighty Snowbird Arla-Vlata, and we all know Kahvi and her—and you—are tight." She held up two fingers pressed together.

"I've been with this battalion for five years, and before that I served with the 5th Sword of Light for ten years. I've been around. Now I wouldn't want anything to happen to Alice Atikokan, much less Allison Gayheart, but gods dammit, I've waited for my turn at command. Then you come along, Louisa, Commander's Daughter, and I'm just supposed to swallow my pride and my years of service, say 'yes ma'am' and kowtow to a 25 year old fucking _kid_."

Louisa bit back what she was going to say, which was for Musashiya to pack her bags, report to Commander Falx, and get the hell out of her sight. Musashiya had a point. She was wrong, granted—or was she? Louisa wondered if she had been indeed given this command because of her parentage. She didn't think her mother or father were prone to nepotism, though Kahvi might be. "I've been a lance commander for the past three years, Priss. I'm not a kid."

"Yeah. A lance commander because who your mom is. Don't think that didn't rankle Dick Davis, either. He wasn't happy." She raised her chin in defiance. "Way I see it, Louisa, you can either let me run this task force—which, by the way, I've been working with for the past two days; it wasn't formed so Louisa Arla-Vlata could get her chance at company commander—or you can relieve my ass and send me to Kahvi."

"You done?" Louisa growled.

"Yes."

"Good. Now allow me." Louisa took a step forward, so that she was no more than five centimeters from Musashiya's face. "First of all, don't you _ever_ fucking tell me about what Richard Davis thought. He was under _my_ command on Mayetta, not yours, and you didn't have to watch him die. He was my friend—yes, he resented me taking command at first, but I did something you so far haven't graced me with. I listened to him. He taught me what I know today. And he died under my command. You ever say something like that to me again, and I swear I will put you in the ground.

"Second: I _earned_ my lance command in training. You should know that. The Snowbirds didn't choose me because I was Sheila Arla-Vlata and Max Canis-Vlata's daughter. They chose me because I fucking earned it, same as you did. But that doesn't matter, Priss, because as you _should_ have learned in the Sword of Light, you don't question how your commanding officers got their ranks; all you need to know is that they are in command.

"And that is what I am, Priss Musashiya. I am in _command_ here. I don't like it, I didn't ask for it, and believe you me, I tried to talk Kahvi out of it. But she's right—I'm the senior surviving lance commander, by the grace of God and the Sentinels RCAT, which puts me in command of this task force. I'm going to ask your advice, and I'm going to need your advice, but I will be _damned_ before I let you bully me. If the position was reversed, you wouldn't take that shit and you know it.

"Third: my mother doesn't even know I'm in command of this unit. I was offplanet until this morning. And trust me, life has not been superb being the Commander's Daughter. It sucks, Priss. Everyone expects me to be just like her. Well, I'm _not._ She formed the Snowbirds, led it all around the Inner Sphere, beat the shit out of the Clans, rebuilt the regiment after Sudeten, and then beat the shit out of everyone else. Now you think it's easy, let's exchange nametapes, and _you_ can deal with that constant sort of pressure. You'd be welcome to it."

Louisa backed off a pace. "Now, the way _I_ see it, we have three options: one, you can relieve your _own_ ass, pack your shit, and go moan to Kahvi about your wounded pride. Two, we can work together and save the lives of two hundred good men and women who are _buying_ us this time to bitch at each other with their blood."

"What's the third option?"

Louisa kicked at the mud. "We can draw a Circle of Equals like Senefa's bunch does, and beat hell out of each other, and whoever drags the other out of the circle is in command."

Musashiya looked at the mud, then back at Louisa, who could tell she was debating her options. A chill went down Louisa's back at what would happen if the other woman chose option three; she wasn't up to a fistfight. Despite her mother and grandmother's best attempts, Louisa wasn't much of a hand-to-hand fighter, whereas Musashiya, it was rumored, liked to compete in mixed martial arts. Of course, a Circle of Equals, while accepted in the expatriate Clan Sentinel, would not go over well with Kahvi Falx or Sheila Arla-Vlata. For either Musashiya or Louisa.

Finally, and to Louisa's surprise, Musashiya chuckled and smiled ruefully. "Well. You put me in a trick, Louisa. I can either go to Kahvi and cry on her shoulder about how a kid kicked me out of my own company, or I can fight you in the mud. The last person to fight an Arla-Vlata in the mud didn't come out so great, as I recall."

"Well, she ended up getting her own battalion in the end," Louisa joked.

"Yeah, but I think I'd either get my ass kicked—by a kid—or worse, I'd win, get my ass kicked by half the battalion and possibly the regimental commander, and _then_ get court-martialed. I've been through one of those already." Louisa saw a brief flash of pain on Musashiya's face, and wondered what offense she had committed to get kicked out of the elite Sword of Light. Usually Kuritans who suffered that dishonor killed themselves. "So you see, it's a no-win situation."

"Unless you work with me."

"Unless I work with you." Musashiya sighed. "So. I still think Brittany won't work."

It took a moment for Louisa to realize what she was saying. "All right. Why Brianna, then? I don't like that route."

"Let's not make the decision out here." Musashiya motioned towards the tent and fell in step with Louisa. "Shit," she suddenly said.

"What?"

"I was out of line back there. About Davis, I mean. You're right. I'm sorry." She paused. "Probably shouldn't have said that other stuff, either." She stuck out a hand. "We good?"

Louisa wondered if Musashiya was genuinely sorry, or feared being reported for insubordination. Differences aside, Louisa still outranked her. She supposed it didn't matter. They were not friends, but they could be allies, and that was good enough. Louisa shook the proferred hand. "We're good."

* * *

They walked into the tent. The three men waiting there were obviously relieved. As the two women approached, Fencer cleared his throat. "I took the liberty of looking at our combat power." He tapped the printout. "Eight 'Mechs, four heavy tanks, my four hover APCs, and four combat engineer vehicles. Is that it?"

"I'm afraid so," Louisa answered.

Fencer looked directly at her; she noticed he didn't look at Musashiya like the others did. The old veteran had clearly figured out who was now firmly in charge. "We need some infantry, Major. I understand that my Lynxes are going to be there mainly to load supplies for the 63rd Battalion, but a platoon of SLI would go a long way towards helping us hold that hill."

Louisa suddenly remembered David Harris. "I might could pry some loose. Let's get this thing planned—"

"_Louisa!"_ The shout startled them all. Louisa whirled around just in time to get hit and nearly fall as about 120 pounds of MechWarrior hugged her and threatened to squeeze the breath from her.

"What the—Yurika?" Louisa gasped out.

"Louisa! Louisa! Louisa!" Yurika Misumaru jumped up and down, her long black hair flying as she hugged her roommate and best friend. "About time you got back! I thought maybe the Wobbies got you on Richmond or the way in or something! I heard about the ambush on the road at Saddle Peak Pass—scared the crap out of me when I heard it was Manei Domini! There's this guy talking about you and how awesome you are; I think his name is Harris! He's kinda cute, you know—you could probably get him to take you out and stuff, and there's this new Japanese restaurant here in Belgrade that's awesome and…"

Louisa finally managed to pry her off. Yurika Misumaru was a bundle of nervous energy, slept only four hours a day, and occasionally seemed to spend the other twenty dreaming up ways to annoy Louisa Arla-Vlata. Yet they were close friends, and had been ever since they had first met when Louisa took command of Alpha Light. Yurika had no ambition other than to enjoy life to its fullest all the time, even if that meant dragging her friend along on double dates, to dance clubs, and to social occasions that Louisa abhorred; Yurika found Louisa far too sheltered, prudish, and hopelessly boring to leave alone for long. While there were a few people in the Snowbirds who would like to see Misumaru beaten severely about the head and shoulders, most simply found themselves unable to dislike her. Her enthusiasm was infectious.

"Yurika, I'm a little busy here!" Louisa, eyes wide, nodded at the four people around her.

The fact that she had just embarrassed her lance and now company commander mattered not a bit to Misumaru. "Oh yeah, congrats on the promotion! Hi everyone—Mr. Fencer, Mr. Pryce, Miss Priss…" Musashiya visibly forced herself not to do violence to Misumaru for that one. She turned to Dore, grabbed both his hands, and began shaking them vigorously. "I'm Yurika Misumaru, and—"

"_Yurika!_" Louisa shouted. "This isn't the time. Get lost; I'll talk with you later."

"Oh. Well, here, Commander Falx asked me to give you the latest intel report." She held up a sheaf of paper.

Louisa counted to three, then took the report. "Yurika, go find Harris; I need to talk to him. _Not_ about what you think."

"Right. See you later!" Misumaru literally skipped out of the tent.

Louisa set the intel report down on the map and sighed heavily. "I'm really sorry. MechWarrior Misumaru just is being herself…which is to say like a five year old on a sugar high."

Fencer chuckled. "We all know Yurika, Major. Hard not to."

"She's in your lance? And she _listens_ to you?" Pryce shook his head. "Well, I take it all back, Miss Arla-Vlata. If you can command that, this lot shouldn't give you any trouble."

"Whatever. Let's see what she brought us." Musashiya opened the packet. In it was a reproduction of the map Louisa had, but with markings showing known enemy positions. It didn't look good. According to the Sentinels' intelligence, virtually every river crossing was covered by infantry, tanks, or 'Mechs—though the latter seemed concentrated around north of Hill 5423 at a place called High Peak, and north of Three Forks. Both had a company, but the Sentinels had learned that the Word of Blake was good at hiding their numbers—if there was a company present, there was likely another hidden nearby. There was also the better part of two companies of infantry and tanks just across the river from the Clarkston crossing. "So much for Brittany," Musashiya sighed.

"Possibly, but I can't say I like Brianna much either. We'd be under observation from the moment we jumped off, and it's just too obvious a crossing. We'd be covered on the way to Brittany, like I said…" Louisa caught the look in Musashiya's eyes, and smiled thinly "…but we'd also have to clean out a metric ton of infantry along the way. We don't have that kind of time."

"What about Gina then? The ford? Have we completely written that off?" Pryce asked.

"That's even more narrow, with the river all over the place too." Musashiya countered. "The Lynxes are the only thing that could cross that."

Louisa leaned against the tank's front and bowed her head, trying to think. The bridges at Three Forks—Brianna—were the best, and she could tell Musashiya liked that approach: a full-speed, head-on attack, bulling their way through the opposition, then only a short distance from bridges to the 63rd Battalion.

That said, Louisa still liked Brittany—the crossing at Clarkston. It also provided a short distance to the 63rd, and the WOB would not see them coming until they were at the crossing itself. The problem was, if the map was correct, the Blakists had realized that as well and had the crossing covered.

Gina was the long shot, the end-around. It had the advantage of protection and surprise, mainly because with the Vingaard River swollen, it would be difficult—though not impossible—for 'Mechs to cross. The hovertanks would have no trouble, but the tracked vehicles might as well stay home. And even if they crossed the river, it was another five kilometers of rough terrain before they broke out into open ground, and forty kilometers down Highway 287 to Hill 5423. Any delay would spell doom for the Militia.

Indecision felt like iron in her stomach—which reminded her insistently that she needed to eat something. _Maybe I should break for dinner? No, this isn't a business meeting, dammit! People are going to get killed, Louisa. You have to do _something.

_But I don't know what to do,_ Louisa answered herself. _Shit. Mom and Dad make this look so easy. Mom would come up with some crazy-ass plan, and Dad will either figure out that it'll work or talk Mom out of it. I need my dad, but…_She glanced up at Musashiya, who was staring at her, waiting for a decision. _Well, she's not my dad, that's for sure. And anyway, Mom and Dad have 20 years of experience almost doing this stuff. _Suddenly, the solution—or something resembling it—popped into her head. _Of course, experience! Who's the most experienced guy here?_

Louisa stretched and resumed standing. "Carl, what do _you_ think?"

Fencer had a goatee that was starting to turn gray, and he brushed it in thought. "I agree with Priss. I think that Brittany is a bad route, but for different reasons." He set the intel map against the first one. "The way the Wobbies operate, I think they would've overrun a battalion of militia by now. They're either taking their time, or they're waiting; see what we send out to relieve the 63rd or even if we send anyone at all. Naturally, they have to hold Three Forks, but they can read a map too, and I honestly think there's an ambush at Clarkston—but on the _east_ bank of the river."

"That doesn't make any sense," Musashiya argued. "That goes against everything ever taught about war. You never let your force be divided by a river."

"True, but the force needn't be large, Priss. Just enough to delay us. The Wobbies can either blow the bridge in our face or lure us across the river and _then_ blow the bridge behind us."

"Well, dammit, we've got to do something!" Pryce exclaimed.

"Also true." He turned to Louisa. "I think we should throw the Wobbies a curve."

"All for it," Louisa answered. "But how?"

"I think we all agree that it would be best to avoid a stand-up fight. We're pressed for time, and we're not really strong enough to take on basically a Blakist combined arms battalion. So we take the least obvious approach." His finger came down on Gina, the Toston ford.

Musashiya shook her head vehemently. "Carl, that won't work! We already discussed that."

Fencer smiled. "Except that we've been forgetting someone. Admittedly, his attempts to blend in with the tent haven't helped." He looked over his shoulder at William Dore. "Sergeant, I don't think you've said anything besides a hello to Major Arla-Vlata."

Dore, who had been leaning against a chair, suddenly realized they were all looking at him. Louisa suddenly realized that she had more or less forgotten he was even there. Dore was young, younger than her, with curly blond hair and rather plain features, though his biceps bulged through his uniform shirt. He wore the green collar tabs of the Sentinel tank crews, but with a tiny wrench embossed in the center of the tab, indicating he was an engineer. "Uh, nobody said anything to me. You're all officers."

Louisa smiled at that. "The hell with that, Sergeant, get over here. You're part of this outfit." Dore ambled over. "I take it you've been at least listening."

"Uh, yes, ma'am."

"Got any suggestions about how to cross the Vingaard?"

"Oh, yes, ma'am. My Aardvarks have assault bridges."

Louisa wanted to bang her head against the tank at her own stupidity and inexperience; the only consolation was that Musashiya and Pryce had the same expression. The Aardvark Combat Engineer Vehicle had everything an engineer unit needed: toolkits, storage space for a squad of engineers, a backhoe to prepare fighting positions for tanks and 'Mechs, a plow to clear minefields and a launcher for rope charges that could blow a lane through mines as well, and a gigantic 185 millimeter demolition gun for clearing obstacles—plus the assault bridge that covered the top of the vehicle.

Musashiya recovered first, with a dirty look at Fencer's smug visage. "What's the width of the Vingaard River at Toston? I've seen that river, and it's not a creek."

"Oh, no, ma'am," Dore answered. "It's normally thirty meters across, thereabouts. With the rains, probably about fifty."

Louisa winced. Her _Nightsky_ would barely clear that in a single jump. "How long are your assault bridges?"

"Thirty meters." Dore was excited now, to the point that he cut off Musashiya. "I can overlap my bridges, Major. It won't be easy, but it doesn't have to be a permanent job or anything. All the bridges have to do is hold long enough to get everyone over. Even if there's some water over the bridge, it's no big deal. Lieutenant Pryce's tanks can handle that, as long as they cross one at a time. Sure, the bridge might sway a bit, but with their width, they'll be stable. No problem with your light 'Mechs either, Major."

"Sure, she can jump the river," Musashiya snapped. "My assaults can't."

Dore waved that away like it was a fly, causing Musashiya to go red. "Anything over 80 tons is not going to be knocked over by the current, ma'am."

Louisa cut off Musashiya's retort. "How long would it take?"

Dore looked at the ceiling, obviously doing some mental calculations, and he began to look worried. "Um…probably about two hours. Though that's a conservative estimate."

"Too long," Pryce said. "God help us if we get hit by artillery."

"But it's not a bad idea. I think we might be onto something here…" Louisa returned to the map. "Sergeant Dore's bridges might take too long to set up, but let's hold onto that as a reserve plan. But he and Carl have given me an idea." She took the grease pencil from her pocket again, and drew a line south from the Toston ford to Clarkston. "Check out the terrain here. It's a bit on the mountainous side, but if we use the hills to screen us, we could be on top of the Clarkston bridge before the Wobbies could even see us. They won't be expecting an attack from due north."

"Yeah, but the Wobbies could observe us from High Peak—" Musashiya argued.

"Priss," Louisa said, trying to keep her voice stern but not belittling, "I think we're worrying too much about what the Wobbies are doing. Let's worry about what we're going to do to _them._" Her fingers roamed over the map. "Yes, if they're looking to the north from High Peak. In fact, we could even use that to our advantage—we could send Carl's Lynxes across the river and have them demonstrate like we're going for Highway 287. With his speed, he could be back across the river in a jiffy if we need him back. If it turns out that the Wobbies have a blocking position facing north, then we can fall back on Dore's plan. Assuming the Wobbies even see the ford—which I don't think they even can—they'll have to pull forces either out of Clarkston or the siege of the 63rd. Either way, we have them reacting to us, and that's something, anyway."

Musashiya stared at Louisa for a moment, then sighed. "Yeah, you're right. How're we set for artillery support? I know better than to ask for air." She looked at the ceiling of the tent, where rain was drumming steadily.

"We've got plenty of arty. And you're right, no air." Louisa glanced around the group. "Are we agreed then? We take Gina to get to Brittany?" Everyone nodded. "Okay then. Order of march? I propose we go with my Alpha Light out front, Musashiya's assaults second, Pryce's heavy tanks third, the engineers in the middle, with the Lynxes bringing up the rear. Carl, Yurika's getting you an infantry platoon—Sgt. Harris. Do you know him?"

"Yes. He's solid." Fencer tapped the map. "Our route of march takes us down this gulch here—Garden Gulch. It's narrow. We'll have to go in single file."

"I know. I don't see any other way. We'll just have to move fast." Louisa regarded each of them. "We can't stop for anything. Someone goes down or he punches out, he'll just have to take his chances. As soon as we make contact, the Wobbies are going to be screaming. It won't matter if we move fast and take the Clarkston bridge, but if we stop, we're going to get curb-stomped. Understood?" Everyone nodded again. Louisa did the same. "Okay. Let's do this. Prep your lances, get some food, and get ready to move. We'll have one last meeting at 2330 to take care of any problems or answer any more questions."

"Let's go!" Musashiya clapped her hands, the others did the same, and they headed for their platoons. Musashiya gave Louisa a parade-ground salute which was returned with equal crispness, and they exchanged a smile. Louisa had observed the same ritual before, but never when she was giving the orders. It wasn't a bad feeling, not at all.


	4. Roll Out

_**CHOOSERS OF THE SLAIN**_

_**A Battletech Short Story**_

_**By Sentinel 28A**_

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: Midterms were still kicking my ass, but I think I'm clear for now—just in time for finals. Anyhow, here's the next chapter. Lotsa 'Mech techie stuff in here, but that's part of the reason we like to play Battletech, right? It does serve a purpose. Kind of short chapter this time; the shooting starts in the next one. (I'm trying to stay one chapter ahead of posts.)_

_Hitomi Dunn, by the way, was inspired by two characters: one is Hitomi Ichinohei from _Ninja High School, _though this Hitomi doesn't carry a yo-yo and her surname, Dunn, is a tribute to Ben Dunn, the writer of NHS and an all-around cool dude. The name "Hit Me" actually came from a parody of _Escaflowne _(Studio Sokodei's "Nescaflowne")_;_ I liked it so much I had to have a character like that. Louisa's commentary on the cooling vest was fun to write; I imagine this would be the subject of MechWarrior porn (Rule 34 applies; you just know it exists in the Battletech universe) and as unrealistic as present day fare. And as usual, I can't resist a _Star Wars_ shout out._

_And the name of Louisa's lance? Let's say the initial inspiration for Louisa Arla-Vlata was a certain Greenjacketed "Sharpe" shooter._

_REVIEWERS' CORNER:_

_PacificUser: Glad you're liking it so far._

_ACDoubleEdge: Yeah, you know what they say about plans! Yes, there will be some flashbacks along with the way about Louisa's past._

_FraserMage: Yep. I thought it was about time the engineers got some credit._

_Rogue: I hope Louisa did all right; it's tough not writing her as a Sheila clone. You'll find out how she does in the next chapter when the lasers start flying. As far as the reboot goes, meh. I know what I like._

_MUSIC CORNER: "Kodoku no Angel (Soldier Girls)" from _Bubblegum Crisis _is good, as is "Spaceship in the Dark" from _Project A-ko._ For some reason I also like "Here I Go Again" by Whitesnake._

It took three hours, and a lot of swearing and datapad signing, but it was done. Louisa was surprised at how much it took to outfit a reinforced company—all she had ever had to worry about before was her own lance. She knew her father Max kept the books for both regiments of the Sentinels, and wondered how he kept it all straight. Luckily, nearly all her warriors were veterans, and knew what to bring along and what to leave behind. Now all was ready to go.

Louisa had changed into her MechWarrior "uniform," which wasn't much: a cooling vest, boots, and shorts. The Sentinels actually issued their MechWarriors more than the average Inner Sphere warrior, who habitually wore little more than briefs or less along with the cooling vest; the Sentinels' shorts covered the warriors to their knees, with clear panels for maps and notes. It gave a measure of protection. Louisa shivered, even though she wore a parka over her outfit, as the chill found its way under the coat. It had stopped raining, and now was simply dark and cold. She'd better make this quick.

Her lance was drawn up in a semicircle on the edge of Task Force Valkyrie's assembly area, the three other MechWarriors of her lance also wearing parkas. Yurika Misumaru had greeted her with her customary glomp, but once Louisa gathered them around to issue the movement orders, even she grew silent and serious. Yurika piloted a _Valkyrie_, a 30-ton light fire support 'Mech. Her job was to cover the others and not get in close, though the _Valkyrie_, an old and venerable design, had enough armor to handle a slugfest if it came to that. Ebuillent to the point of annoyance she might be, but Yurika was solid as a rock in combat.

Yurika's ebuillence was balanced by the sullenness of Hitomi Dunn, the "low" MechWarrior in the lance, reserved for the least experienced MechWarrior. She was always like that until the firing started. Initially assigned to a different Sentinels battalion, she had started out in medium 'Mechs, but after losing two of those, found herself piloting light 'Mechs and with no lance commander wanting her. The reason was that Dunn was aggressive to the point of recklessness, and as a result she had acquired the nickname "Hit Me," a play on her first name, because of how many times her machine would get hit by enemy fire. In an effort to control her, Dunn had been assigned to Louisa's Alpha Light lance—with Louisa once more wondering either if someone didn't like her or where people were getting such confidence in her abilities. As it turned out, however, all Dunn wanted was an opportunity to fight, and she got it in the Snowbirds. She piloted a _Spider_, also a 30-tonner, but one with an almost feminine figure. The _Spider_ was a scout with only two medium lasers for armament, but it was also one of the most mobile 'Mechs ever fielded; Dunn had become an expert at ambush.

Rounding out Louisa's Alpha Light was Richard Habersohn, who laughingly referred to himself as the "token male" of the otherwise all-female lance. It hadn't been planned that way and just happened, but Habersohn didn't seem to mind. A little older than Louisa, he had quickly become her right-hand man: if Yurika was always happy and Dunn always angry, Habersohn was squarely in the middle. He was just simply dependable, with a temper if riled, but otherwise easygoing. In Louisa's absence, he had commanded the understrength lance, and done well; he was considered a senior MechWarrior, able to get his own lance if he wanted. So far, he had turned down the opportunity to stay with Alpha Light, because the other openings would have required leaving the Snowbirds—which Louisa was glad of. She needed Habersohn's steadiness. In her naivete, Louisa never suspected there might be other reasons why Habersohn stayed with the lance, and those reasons might be his red-haired lance commander. A torch he might carry for her, but Habersohn was all business now. His _Black Hawk_ was a captured Clan OmniMech, capable of being refitted at a moment's notice with a variety of weapons, but he preferred the standard variant: a murderous array of no less than ten extended-range medium lasers, Clan versions that hit harder and at longer range. The heat burden on the 50-ton 'Mech was enormous, but even heavy 'Mechs couldn't shrug off a salvo like that; Habersohn was the heavy hitter of the lance.

Louisa knew that Habersohn would be doubly burdened this night, because she would have to fight the company, leaving him to control the lance. Luckily, he had the experience and the coolness under fire to do it, so he accepted the job without hesitation and with much relief on Louisa's part. With a final "good luck," she shook hands with Habersohn, hugged Yurika, and fist-bumped Dunn. It was a ritual of Alpha Light, and it had kept all four of them alive for the past three years. They worked as one entity now, a bond forged in battle.

* * *

Louisa walked to her own 'Mech, joining a tech who waited with a red-lensed flashlight. Together, they made a slow circle of her 'Mech, a 50-ton _Nightsky._ Designed as a supplement to the successful, 45-ton pre-Clan War _Hatchetman_ design, the _Nightsky_ was a fast, dependable machine designed exactly for the kind of missions that Alpha Light specialized in—long range scouting and raiding. It had only laser weapons, which the Sentinels had modified slightly: three ports of medium pulse lasers dotted the sleek, slablike torso, while the left arm had a single extended-range large laser jutting over the hand. Mounted above the bifurcated canopy was the snubnosed snout of a small pulse laser. Combined, the _Nightsky_ could do a lot of damage, but what enemies feared was fitted over its right hand: a single four-ton slab of sharpened metal. The hatchet could tear a 'Mech apart or smash into an opponent's head, making the _Nightsky_ a lethal fighter at close range—and Louisa liked to get in close. Unlike the other 'Mechs and tanks of the task force, her machine had not seen action yet, and still gleamed in its color scheme of light blue over gray. It was supposed to camouflage the 'Mech, but since it was virtually impossible to disguise something that stood two stories tall, all the scheme really did was break up the _Nightsky's_ silhouette. The other 'Mechs and tanks had spot welds and bare metal where armor plates had been put back on and damage hurriedly repaired. Finding nothing from their inspection, Louisa signed yet another datapad for the tech, then, as he held the rope ladder steady for her, climbed up the twenty feet to the cockpit of her 'Mech. She took off the parka and stuffed it into a tiny locker behind the ejection seat, and, freezing, dropped into the seat and quickly shut the canopy, which sealed with a hiss. The _Nightsky_'s fusion engine was already running, so the cockpit warmed quickly.

Now came another prebattle ritual as she strapped in, fastening the five point harness around her torso and making sure the spurs on the back of her boots fitted into their attachments on the ejection seat; they would keep her legs from flailing around and being shattered if she had to eject from the 'Mech. With that done, she grabbed her helmet from the top of the seat and put it on; the Sentinels had long since switched from the massive, thick neurohelmets worn by Louisa's adopted grandparents to lighter, less bulky helmets. She took the leads from the helmet and plugged them in to ports on the left side of the seat, and closed her eyes as the expected, thankfully brief wave of nausea passed. That was the result of the 'Mech taking Louisa's own sense of equilibrium and transmitting it to the complicated gyro that lay in the _Nightsky's_ belly; without the gyro, all 50 tons of 'Mech would crash to the ground with its first step.

Next Louisa checked her instruments, which glowed reassuringly red in the darkness, so as not to ruin her night vision. She closed her eyes again and felt around the cockpit, identifying each control and button by feel—a habit taught to her by her father, in case she should ever lose the instrument panel lights in darkness or if she was suddenly blinded. That done, Louisa sighed and plugged in her cooling vest to a port in the right side of the cockpit. Instantly, cooling fluid flowed into the tubes on the vest. She shivered so hard that her teeth chattered: the cooling vest was absolutely vital in a cockpit that could top a hundred and twenty degrees in a battle, with waste heat from an overworked engine and laserfire bleeding into the small chamber. It was bad enough even when the temperatures were mild; in the winter, or in cool fall rains, it was almost intolerable. Louisa was glad for the sports bra she wore beneath the vest and remembered one night when she and Yurika had attended a bachelorette party thrown for another female MechWarrior, one which Yurika had basically had to drag Louisa forcibly to. They had rented a pornographic holo for laughs, and all the women had collapsed in uproarious mirth when the holovid showed a female MechWarrior becoming aroused by her own cooling vest—Yurika had commented that a cooling vest was about as much of a turn on as being felt up by a snowman. Louisa had to smile at that one.

She spoke into the microphone pickup in her helmet. "Alpha Light Greens, check in." Green referred to Alpha Light's nickname, the Royal Green Jackets. When the Sentinels had first been formed by Calla Bighorn-Vlata, each lance had been given a nickname of a famous regiment from Terran history. Alpha Light had been named for the rifle regiments of Napoleonic War-era England, men who fought between the French and English lines, snipers who killed officers and formed picket lines.

"Green Two." Habersohn.

"Green Three." Misumaru.

"Green Four." Dunn.

"All up. Break." She switched to the company net. "Task Force Valkyrie, this is Green Six. Radio check."

"Wolf Six, check." Louisa saw Priss Musashiya move into view. Her _Awesome_ was exactly that, almost twice the size and three times the breadth of her _Nightsky,_ an ugly-slab sided 'Mech designed for lethal efficiency rather than aesthetics. The _Awesome_'s top speed was half of Louisa's 'Mech, but the designers had figured the _Awesome_ would never have to run from anything. The rest of Musashiya's 'Mechs were no less impressive: Faye Mido's _Mauler_, with towering missile batteries on either side of the cockpit, arms ending in laser cannons, and a chest studded with four autocannon ports; Ed Redrock's egg-shaped _Flashman_, all lasers and rounded edges; and most impressive of all, the _Masakari_ of Kagome Sentinel. Both 'Mech and MechWarrior were formerly Clan; Kagome had been captured in an earlier battle and, being a unBloodnamed Clan warrior, had taken the name of the regiment that had captured her as her own. As for the _Masakari,_ it was 85 tons of mechanized murder, with its main armament quad particle projection cannons capable of sawing smaller 'Mechs in half in seconds. Having the assaults along might slow TF Valkyrie down, but it also gave them plenty of firepower.

"Bunny Six, up," came the voice of Roland Pryce. He had four tanks, and like the assault 'Mechs, they were nasty in their own way. Pryce's Demolisher featured over and under massive Autocannon/20s, which all MechWarriors feared as "head-choppers," able to take off the head of an opposing 'Mech with a single shot. Behind him was Trina Smith's Schrek, with a triple-mount PPC turret; Molly Connell's Peltast LRM Carrier, nothing but a solid wall of missle ports; and finally Ash Weltjens' Ontos, with a octuple battery of medium lasers equally suited to taking on 'Mechs and infantry—if they ran into Manei Domini, the Ontos would give the cyborgs pause. Pryce's callsign referred to the nickname of his platoon, the Doom Bunnies, a name they had been stuck with during the Clan War.

"Red Six, standing by." That would be Carl Fencer, whose four Lynxes idled on deflated hoverskirts. The Lynx was thinly armored and only had the turret containing three medium lasers, but their job was essentially to act as battle taxis for the infantry, to get in quickly, drop off their troops, and get out again. Only Fencer's Lynx had infantry, the platoon of David Harris, who had been overjoyed that Louisa had picked him to come along. The other three were stuffed with provisions and ammunition for the 63rd Infantry Battalion.

"Shovel Six. We're here." Behind the Lynxes were the four Aardvarks, nearly hidden underneath the mobile bridges above them; the only part that stuck out was the snout of the 165mm demolition gun, designed for use against concrete pillboxes and other obstacles. The demolition gun was of limited effectiveness against mobile targets, since it lacked any sort of targeting computer, but the engineers always talked about what would happen if a 'Mech got hit by it. Louisa shuddered: just seeing the huge opening of the barrel was enough for her.

_Well, that's it then,_ she sighed. They were ready. Now only one order was left to give. She took a breath, held it, and let it out, controlling her voice to sound steadier than she was: "Valkyrie, form up and move out." Louisa pressed down on the pedals, and the _Nightsky_ moved forward. The operation had begun. It was 25 kilometers to the river, another ten to Clarkston, and then less than five to the 63rd Battalion. 40 kilometers didn't seem like much on the map display, especially since nearly half the distance would be made well within her own lines, but to Louisa Hill 5423 might as well be on one of Virentofta's three moons.


	5. Gardens and Poisons

_**CHOOSERS OF THE SLAIN**_

_**A Battletech Short Story**_

_**By Sentinel 28A**_

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: I had posted on my DeviantArt page that I wasn't going to be updating for a bit due to Real Life circumstances, but what do you know…the muse bit and here we are. Probably will still be a few weeks before I do more, though. Finally some action in this chapter, though not too much 'Mech action; this chapter should show the value of artillery in Battletech and how powerful 'Mechs really are. _

_Some quick shout-outs in here to _Red Dawn_ and _The Pacific,_ the latter of which I just watched last week. It's very, very good if you haven't seen it—but it shows war in all its disgusting brutality, so make sure you don't watch it while eating dinner. Also, a quick thanks to whoever made Google Earth, because it's neat using the Atmospheric filter to check out Louisa's line of march, from her perspective in the dark. _

_BTW, this is a nice, long chapter to tie you over until next time._

_REVIEWERS' CORNER:_

_Not a lot of reviews this time. C'mon folks; that's the only way we writers can know what we've done wrong and/or get our egos stroked…_

_Rogue: Not sure what the prancing comment was about (in-joke?), but yeah, thanks for the compliment. Since the first person who usually reads these stories is my dad, who is not a gamer, I tend to write as if the reader knows nothing about Battletech. Glad it worked anyway. (Besides, I had to throw in the cooling vest joke.)_

_ACDoubleEdge: Well, I'm no Michael Stackpole, and we write in different styles, kinda. (I got to meet Stackpole two years ago, and he's a pretty kewl dude.) Kai is a bit of a crybaby at first, but he's a badass by _Lost Destiny,_ though he doesn't really mature IMHO until _Assumption of Risk. _As far as Arrow IVs go, get in close and nail his TAG 'Mechs. Though if the guy is just deluging you with Arrow IVs every game session, I wouldn't game with him. Arrow IVs are fairly rare and shouldn't be used in every scenario; you may have a power gamer on your hands. Once you get on the same mapboard with the Arrow IV carriers though, they're basically dead meat._

_MUSIC CORNER: "Angriff" from _Das Boot_ (no one does claustrophobic like Klaus Doldinger), "Battle at Devil's Den" from the _Gettysburg_ soundtrack, and "Veteran of the Psychic Wars" by Blue Oyster Cult for some old skool rock._

_15 Kilometers North of Belgrade_

_Virentofta, Pesht Military District, Draconis Combine_

_11 September 3070_

The column had to move at the speed of its slowest machine, namely the heavy tanks of Pryce's platoon. Even so, ten kilometers went by quickly and in silence. Louisa jumped when she heard the impact of heavy rounds, and she whirled her head in that direction, causing the _Nightsky_ to do the same; the targeting sensors of the 'Mech were slaved to her neurohelmet, automatically moving the head to where the MechWarrior was looking. Then she remembered: the Sentinels and the Virentofta Militia were laying artillery strikes up and down the line, covering Task Force Valkyrie's approach. The bombardment was weighted on the Three Forks area, in the hope that the Word of Blake would concentrate there, with secondary fire missions laid on Clarkston; the Toston ford was left alone. Hopefully the Blakists would not be watching that. She couldn't see the artillery strikes actually hit, her view of the river blocked by the Horseshoe Hills that masked her advance, but she could see the western horizon light up, reflected off the low clouds. The rain had stopped, finally.

Louisa wondered about the people she was rescuing, and hoped the artillery bolstered their spirits. _It must be terrible,_ she thought, being surrounded with only a shred of hope that they would be rescued. Louisa had never been surrounded or besieged, and never wanted to be. If she had been the 63rd, she would have packed it in long ago: rifle infantry and some old tanks against Word of Blake Manei Domini and Celestial 'Mechs. Then again, the rumor was that the Blakists weren't terribly interested in prisoners. It occurred to Louisa that she didn't even know the name of the commander of the 63rd. The militia had been told help was on the way, but Louisa hoped Kahvi hadn't mentioned the fact that TF Valkyrie was small, or under the command of an inexperienced 25-year old. Louisa shuddered, realizing for the first time the responsibility now on her shoulders. _My God,_ she thought, _how does Mom do it? Every time she goes into battle, she knows she's responsible for all two thousand of the Sentinels. No, wait—she's responsible for _ten_ thousand of us, if you include the techs and the DropShip crews and the families of everyone. No wonder she's got a bad temper or that she's always getting sick, or that Dad always looks so worried. _The thought of the 63rd's families—also now riding on Louisa's shoulders—was enough to almost make her key the radio, inform Priss Musashiya that she could have command of the task force after all, and go home. Almost.

_For that matter,_ Louisa continued, her mind unable to help wandering, _I don't really know much about the Word of Blake._ The Clans she knew—only too well. They were a known quantity now, though she could remember in the dark days of the Clan War when no one knew anything about them. But she knew little about her enemy. There was a few things—the Word of Blake was the fanatical offshoot of ComStar, who once controlled all communications in the Inner Sphere; they adhered to the old ways of worshiping technology, virtually replacing God with the founder of ComStar, Jerome Blake; they wanted to turn back the clock to the days when only ComStar had access to Star League technology, when only ComStar could say who could write what to whom, when they still had control. She knew the Blakists were fanatics, willing to kill anyone who didn't believe what they believed, fought with the devotion of fanatics, and would even resort to using chemical weapons, bioweapons, or, horror of horrors, nuclear weapons. With the Clans, there were rules. The Blakists had none. Still, even in her first encounter with the Clans, Louisa had had far more knowledge than she did now. All she knew was that the Blakists wanted to kill her and hers, and that they could bleed, and she supposed that was enough. Her lips quirked into a half-smile. _Isn't that how it's always been? The line doggies like me, we don't know anything about our enemy, other than he can die and we have to kill him before he does the same to us? _

She wondered if her counterpart across the lines, in his or her 'Mech, sweating out the random death of an artillery barrage, was having the same thoughts. Or did the cybernetic enhancements the Blakists supposedly had take away their humanity too? Did they find solace in the words of their leaders that they were right, and that the Inner Sphere must be purified in the flames of war? Or did they just want to go home, like she did right now?

Her radio crackled to life and Louisa was happy for it, because it ended her thoughts chasing each other around her head. "Green Six, this is Axe Actual." She tensed: it was Kahvi Falx. Something was up. Although she was commander of the Snowbirds, Kahvi never used the callsign Snowbird Actual: that was still, and always would be, Sheila Arla-Vlata.

"Go ahead, Axe."

"Be advised, we've just had a report of enemy infantry in your area, at grid 111-46."

Louisa's eyes went to her map display. _Shit, that's right on my line of march._ She peered closer, noting the name of the area. _Poison Hollow. That figures._ "Roger. Strength?"

"Believed to be one platoon, occupying a farm."

"Understood. Any further orders?"

"Negative. Charlie Mike. Good luck. Axe Actual, out." Charlie Mike: Continue Mission. _Well, it wasn't like I was planning to turn back over a platoon of infantry._

She switched over to the company net. "Wolf Six, did you hear that?" Musashiya would have been listening in.

"Roger that. Probably a picket unit."

"Concur." She hadn't expected the Word of Blake to throw out a picket line that far away from the river, though; it was a good eleven kilometers deep. _Maybe that's where they were basing their raiding parties out of in the mountains?_ Louisa asked herself. "Wolf Six, advise that they're probably Manei Domini."

"Roger that. What do you want to do?"

"Bypass 'em."

"Roger." Musashiya seemed unsure.

Louisa didn't know why; she had no intention of stopping and deploying to clear out a platoon of infantry, which would take time she didn't have and cause casualties she couldn't afford. Rifle fire wouldn't do anything but scratch the paint of her vehicles. _They might have SRMs,_ her mind warned her. Barring the proverbial lucky shot, an SRM wouldn't stop a 'Mech or a tank; even the Lynx could handle a few hits. There was something she was missing, though. _Mortars? Maybe; that won't stop us, though. Laser rifles? No, still not enough. But what am I—_then it hit her. _Radio. They'll have a radio._

She switched frequencies. "Throwback, this is Green Six. I have trade for you."

The voice of Makkari Norea, the commander of the Sentinels' artillery, came back. "Roger, Green Six. What can I make go away?"

"Fire mission, grid square 111-46. Fire in…" she consulted the clock on her instrument panel "…two minutes."

"Roger that." In her mind's eye, Louisa could see the artillery pieces of the regiment swing their turrets around to lay their guns on Poison Hollow—the Chaparral missile batteries, the 155 millimeter Snipers, the earth-shaking 203 millimeter Long Toms.

"Green Six to all Valkyrie elements," Louisa addressed the task force. "We're coming up to a farm in Poison Hollow, occupied by Wobbies. Do not stop and engage only as necessary. Repeat, do _not_ stop. We're not here to play tag with Manei Domini. Let the arty earn their pay. Out."

Her computer chirped for her attention. On the map screen, she saw that she had passed the phase line, and the computer helpfully reminded her that she needed to turn northwest for Objective Gina. TF Valkyrie was now officially in enemy territory. She looked into the darkness beyond her canopy to see if she could see the farm. Louisa switched to infrared, and spotted her objective. There were smaller heat sources, and one large one. _Well, well,_ she mused with a savage smile, _you're not invincible, Wobbies. You've got a fire going. Bad, bad. Raw recruits know better than that. Cold, huh? You're about to get a lot warmer._ There was no sign they detected her, but that would change in moments. One heard 'Mechs long before they saw them.

"Shot out," Norea radioed. A second later, Louisa involuntarily ducked as the freight train noise of an incoming artillery shell roared overhead. A sharp explosion bloomed on her viewscreen, and she quickly turned off the infrared. Dirt and mud shot into the air on the opposite side of the farm. "Throwback, Green Six—drop twenty and fire for effect!"

Norea's reply was overriden as missiles arced from the farm directly at her. Louisa brought up her right arm, and the night lit up again as the missiles detonated against the arm's armor. "Green Six to Valkyrie! Contact right—enemy infantry!" she radioed. "Engage but do not stop!"

Artillery now struck amongst the farmhouses, this time setting off a secondary explosion. Laser fire stuttered from the surviving houses and from fighting holes dug around it, along with more missiles. She twisted the _Nightsky_ around, aimed the large laser, and sent a single red bolt into a house already burning from the artillery. Figures raced out and fell behind her; she hated turning her back on the Blakist infantry, but barring a lucky hit, her rear armor would hold. Her eyes darted around the instrument panel: one monitor faced to the rear and lit up as Habersohn lashed Poison Hollow with his lasers, the _Black Hawk_ tearing through the infantry. Another display showed that both Dunn and Misumaru had shifted to the left, keeping away from the Manei Domini. A _Valkyrie_ was not built for that sort of fighting, and Dunn's _Spider_ was too thinly-armored.

Dirt exploded in front of her, and she instinctively shifted away from it. _Mortars!_ Again, this was a small threat to a 'Mech, but since mortars plunged, she stood a good chance of being hit in the head. Despite her own orders, Louisa stopped to look behind her. This made her a good target, and two more SRMs flew in her direction, but they had been hastily fired and fell short.

Louisa winced and smiled at the same time. Poison Hollow now came within range of Pryce's tanks and Musashiya's assault 'Mechs. The former caused the Manei Domini to increase their efforts and fire, but the volume of return fire was titanic. The Schrek's triple PPCs and the Ontos' octuple medium lasers were exacting a heavy price on anyone who fired, and Musashiya added her lance's firepower to the tanks. "Valkyrie elements, Green Six," Louisa radioed, seeing Mido's _Mauler_ launch a salvo of missiles. "Do not fire any ballistic or missile weapons. Conserve your ammo for the big stuff." Then she shifted frequencies, telling Norea to cease fire.

Just as suddenly as it had begun, the battle ended. Poison Hollow was now silent, a burning ruin. If any Manei Domini had survived the deluge of combined arms fire and artillery, they were being very quiet. A single, thin laser beam fired out and splashed against Pryce's Demolisher; the point where it had come from was blasted into glass by Kagome Sentinel's _Masakari._ After that, there was no more firing.

_That wasn't too bad,_ Louisa thought. She got a quick sitrep from her task force. No one had more than basically a scratch. She gathered up Valkyrie, got them back in formation, and continued moving northwest.

Suddenly it was quiet. It never ceased to amaze her how quiet things could get after a battle. In a 'Mech, the pilot was insulated by thick armor, and thus felt a battle more than they heard one, aside from warning beeps and warbles from the 'Mech's battle computer warning of threats and damage. Even so, in the dismounted battles Louisa had been in, and there had been several, it always seemed so quiet after a battle, as if the participants were stunned at what had just happened. The battle of Poison Hollow had lasted less than five minutes.

Louisa pulled her _Nightsky_ to one side and halted, telling Habersohn to keep moving. She watched the column move past, counting tanks and 'Mechs. Musashiya's _Awesome_ drew even with her. "Everything okay, Green Six?" the other woman tightbeamed to Louisa.

"I'm okay, Wolf Six. Just checking the column—making sure everyone's still with us."

"Green Six, everyone's just fine. Trust your lance and platoon leaders, huh? We've done this before." Musashiya paused. "Besides, I already checked. Go back to the head of the column—ma'am."

Louisa chuckled to herself. "Roger that." She turned, ran the _Nightsky _near to full speed, and easily caught up with the command lance. Musashiya was right. She had veterans under her command; if any of them had fallen behind, they would have let her know. And Musashiya _was_ her second-in-command: she knew her job too. _I've got a lot to learn at this company command stuff,_ Louisa mused. Another reminder of her inexperience, but a good one, and one to file away for future reference.

"Green Six, Green Four," Hitomi Dunn radioed. "I'm at Garden Gulch. Proceed?" Dunn was serving as lead scout, exactly what her _Spider_ was designed to do.

"Charlie Mike," Louisa sent back. "Green Two, stay close to Four. Green Three, hold back here with me." Louisa switched frequencies. "Valkyrie elements: hold here for three minutes."

There was a click, and from her communication gear, Louisa saw that Musashiya had come online for a second, then signed off just as abruptly. Louisa smiled, knowing now that the situation was reversed: now Musashiya had to trust her and not to question why Louisa had halted Valkyrie short of Garden Gulch. The reason was simple and had just occurred to her. If the WOB had an outpost at Poison Hollow, then they might have something in the gulch as well—a small infantry listening post, or a scout tank or something. If the LP or tank spotted the entire Valkyrie column, the Blakists could probably figure out what its purpose was and move to stop it. But two 'Mechs, especially a _Spider_ and a _Black Hawk,_ might be dismissed as a scouting unit on a quick recon, something defensive.

Despite herself, Louisa moved forward a little bit and looked down Garden Gulch. Calling it a gulch was a bit of an understatement: it was closer to a canyon. In the weak light of Virentofta's moons, diffused by the clouds, she couldn't see very far: the night and the forest tended to blend together, though the gray granite of the mountains shone through. Checking her map display, Garden Gulch wound tightly through the Horseshoe Hills—again, a misnomer; what the locals called hills were in excess of 2500 meters high, or over 5000 feet as they measured it—then smoothed out as it approached the Vingaard River, until the hills flattened considerably. If the WOB was going to hit her with an ambush, it would be in the first two kilometers.

She checked her chronometer. The three minutes were up. Rather than radioing, she simply turned and waved at Pryce's Demolisher. A quick blink of his headlights acknowledged the signal. Valkyrie started moving again.

As she moved down the thin trail, her radio came to life. "Green Six, Throwback. We're shifting position. Give us ten before you call us back." Norea was moving his artillery, to keep the WOB from triangulating where his pieces were and counterbatterying him.

"Understood, Throwback. We're going to be out for a bit too; we're going to lose LOS." LOS stood for line-of-sight; once Louisa was below the Horseshoe Hills, the mountains would block her signal. Under normal circumstances, Louisa could bounce her communications off of a satellite in orbit back down to Norea, but communication satellites were usually the first target of an invader, and Virentofta was no different. She thought about sending a radio message to the 63rd Battalion, but decided against it, for fear the WOB would pick it up. She would wait until they got closer. Her _Nightsky_ suddenly shifted dangerously to the right, and Louisa instinctively slammed the control sticks left and stomped the left pedal, bringing her 'Mech back to an even keel. _Whoops,_ she thought._ Better pay attention to what you're doing, Louisa. These things don't pilot themselves._

"Green Six, Green Two!" Dunn's voice sounded excited. "Enemy contact! I got a hit from my Beagle!" The Sentinels had retrofitted their _Spiders_ with Beagle Probes, sensor suites that could pick up hidden enemy units.

Louisa brought her _Nightsky's_ right fist up, the age-old infantryman's signal to halt. Yurika moved out, the missile ports on her _Valkyrie_ opening up; Louisa could just make out Habersohn's _Black Hawk_ about a kilometer ahead, stopped. Of Dunn there was no sign. "Green Two, spot report," Louisa said, trying to keep her own voice under control.

"Wait one, Six…" Dunn trailed off, then her voice blasted into Louisa's headphones as she shouted, "Got it! It's a Skulker!" Louisa's mind instantly processed the information: a Skulker scout car, not much more than an armored truck, but one bristling with sensors. "He's hauling ass!"

"Get him, Two!" Louisa accelerated forward, using the hatchet to brush aside or knock down trees. She could see Habersohn and Yurika doing the same thing, but they were out of position. Louisa spotted movement, and her HUD instantly targeted the Skulker as an enemy, reporting dutifully that she was still out of range as well. The scout car was bouncing down the slope, but whoever the driver was, he was good and was dodging around trees that would slow a 'Mech. It was up to Dunn.

Luckily, Hitomi Dunn was up to the job. She loved to fight, and now was her chance. As the Skulker slewed around to head down the gulch, her _Spider_ suddenly rose on silver flames in a perfectly timed jump. She landed in a small clearing just ahead of the scout car, and opened fire. Her two medium lasers wouldn't do more than scratch a opposing 'Mech, but against a thinly-armored scout car, it was perfect. The lasers scored sparks across the Skulker, which swerved hard, glanced off of a tree, then tried to get around Dunn. She hopped forward, drew back, and landed a solid kick to the side of the Skulker. The car, already overbalanced, tipped over, slid for a few meters, then began rolling down the hill until it slammed into a boulder. Dunn picked her way down the slope and stood over the Skulker.

Louisa lost sight of the two in the trees; she was afraid to use her own jumpjets in the thick woods. By the time she got there, Dunn was still standing over the Skulker, but the scout car's hatches were open. Two bodies, one hanging halfway out of the hatch, smoked in the chill night air. Louisa threw Dunn a nasty look. _Dammit, Hit Me, you triggerhappy bitch! We could've maybe taken them alive—_

"Hi, boss," Dunn tightbeamed to her. "Sorry about the mess. Two guys jumped out. I told them to surrender, but they didn't. Had to burn them down." Louisa bit back her words. Dunn probably had acted correctly. The Blakists could be as bad as the Smoke Jaguars and the Kuritans when it came to surrendering.

She looked over the Skulker. It looked mostly intact. There might be something inside she could use. She hesitated as Habersohn's _Black Hawk_ arrived, pushing aside a tree that had been splintered by the Skulker's ride down the mountain. She thought about having him take a look, but shook her head. _Never ask someone to do something you're not willing to do yourself,_ her mother's voice echoed in her head. "Green Three, I'm going to go check out the Skulker."

"I don't think that's a very good idea," Habersohn sent back.

"Hitomi killed everyone already. I won't be gone more than five minutes. There might be intel in there."

"Leave it for the infantry—" Habersohn cut himself off. The infantry would take too long to get up here, and the one disadvantage of the speedy Lynxes was that they couldn't negotiate thick woods like this. "Well…take Dunn with you, anyway. I'll overwatch."

"Let Priss know." Louisa took off her helmet and grabbed her coat out of the locker, and her pistol as well. She opened the hatch and shivered as the cold air hit her. She checked the pistol, stuffed it into her coat, and climbed down the telescoping ladder. Once on the ground, she signaled for Dunn to dismount and follow her. The Kuritan woman was down even faster than Louisa had, not even bothering with the coat. "Did you bring a-" Dunn smiled, answering Louisa's unfinished question by holding up a titanic Sternsnacht heavy pistol and a hand grenade. "Okay. Cover me."

As they jogged to the overturned Skulker, Louisa had second thoughts as she remembered that she was commanding a company. As a lance commander, dismounted operations occasionally made sense; it was stupid for a company commander to do it. Sure, her parents had done it during the Clan War, but both Sheila and Max had admitted that some of the chances they had taken were plain stupid youthful overconfidence. Louisa stole a glance at Dunn. _No, I can't back out now. Well, here goes…_

Louisa took hold of one of the Skulker's armored tires and pulled herself onto the side of the car. Her stomach gave a quick, involuntary heave at the sight and smell of the scorched bodies; a medium laser didn't leave much of a human being but a blackened ruin. Louisa fought down the bile in her throat, and looked into the compartment.

She looked into the barrel of a pistol. The hammer came down with a click.

"Shit!" Louisa threw herself back a millisecond too late. No bullet hit her or even sang past her. "Fucking shit—there's someone in there—"

"Not for long!" Dunn straightened the pin on the grenade.

"Wait!" Louisa ordered. If Dunn tossed the grenade into the Skulker, she would burn everything inside of it. Hesitantly, pistol first, Louisa peered into the crew compartment. Once again, there was the click of a pistol, but no bullet. She looked closer, and saw the pistol's owner: a young woman, her face bloody, her hands shaking. "Drop the gun," Louisa growled.

"No!" the woman shouted, and put the pistol to her own temple. She pulled the trigger again, eyes screwed shut, and again there was nothing but a click. The woman burst into sobs as Louisa dropped down into the compartment and snatched the pistol away. A quick glance told her the reason why the pistol hadn't worked: it was unloaded. She threw the gun out the hatch.

"Driver's dead, boss," Dunn said. She was hanging upside down, the Sternsnacht pointed at the driver's compartment. The spray of blood across the cracked windscreen where the driver's head had been propelled into it confirmed that.

Louisa reached down and searched the woman. She was still crying and put up no resistance; she also had nothing on her. Louisa saw the rank tabs on her shoulder. If the Blakists' ranks were anything like ComStar, this woman was an Adept, making her either a noncommissioned officer or a low-ranking officer. By her youth, Louisa guessed the latter. She gripped the Blakist under her shoulders and hauled her to her feet. Between Louisa and Dunn, they pulled the Adept from the Skulker; Dunn then shoved her to the ground, where she landed next to one of the charred bodies. The woman recoiled in horror at what was left of a man she had been chatting with only minutes before, turned away, and vomited.

"Hitomi, cover her." Louisa almost added that if the Adept made any threatening moves, to shoot her, but figured that Dunn would interpret that order liberally. Instead, she began searching through the crew compartment. Most of it was wrecked; rolling down the mountain had smashed equipment. She found another body, crumpled in the corner; this Adept was male and had been catapulted into the ceiling. By the strong smell of coffee and food splattered around the interior, Louisa guessed that the crew had been caught completely surprise; the driver had probably gunned it before the crew could even strap in. There was also the smell of gasoline and oil, and given that the engine was probably smashed, the computers, assuming they even worked, were useless. Louisa was about to give up when she spotted a map. She grabbed that and pulled herself out of the Skulker.

Dunn had jumped down and was covering the Adept, who was on all fours, shuddering and still gagging. Dunn grinned up at Louisa. "I thought the Wobbies were supposed to be superpeople or something. This bitch can't even handle a little fried long pig." She toed the burned corpse.

Louisa ignored that and knelt next to the woman. "Who are you?"

"A-Adept Lisa…Lisa Adams." The Adept fought visibly for control. "Serial number—"

"I don't care about that. What was your mission? What's your unit?" Adams shook her head, so Louisa thumbed back the hammer on her pistol to emphasize her point, though it was still aimed at the ground. "Adept Adams," she said evenly, not raising her voice, "I will kill you if you don't start talking."

"The Ares Conventions—"

Dunn kicked her viciously. "Never heard of them!" she shouted.

"Hitomi!" Louisa snapped. "That's enough." She speared Dunn with a glance, not at all liking what she saw in the Kuritan woman's eyes. She returned her attention to Adams, trying a different tack. "What's your rank, Adept?" She said the last in her command voice.

Adams responded instantly, conditioned to instantly obey commands. "Adept-I Delta." That told Louisa at lot. It meant Adams had only been an Adept for a year, explaining her youth, and that her primary job was military intelligence. She risked looking back at Dunn; the raw hate on the latter's face broke down what little resistance was left. "I'm assigned to the 7th Division. We were out here on recon duties…Poison Hollow reported being under attack and…"

"Did you get a radio message off?"

"No. We were waiting to hear from Poison Hollow and the Manei Domini—and then we spotted the 'Mechs and were trying to get closer when the _Spider…_Thomas, mercy of Blake, Thomas…" She looked at the corpse and broke down again, burying her face in the grass and sobbing.

"God in heaven." Louisa straightened up, feeling sorry for the woman—girl, really; she couldn't be more than twenty, Louisa guessed—despite herself. Once, after a bad nightmare of Vantaa, a ten year old Louisa had asked her mother when the Clans stopped being scary. Sheila had replied it was when she had looked into the face of a wounded Jade Falcon MechWarrior on Twycross, and saw fear. The holovids didn't show things like the scene in front of her. Prisoners were always supposed to have some sort of quiet dignity, the honorable opponent; Louisa admitted that she had seen the Blakists as some sort of faceless fanatic fit only to die beneath her guns. Adept Adams had thrown up everything in her system, was crying uncontrollably, and smelled as if she had urinated on herself as well. _So. They have feelings too._ Louisa wasn't sure to be happy about that—that her enemies were not ten feet tall and made of radiation—or sad, because it personalized them. That she didn't need, if she was going to keep her sanity.

"SLI's here," Dunn said, and Louisa saw David Harris leading a squad come around the Skulker, puffing with exertion.

"Morning, Major," Harris said. His grin faded at the bodies. "Got a prisoner?"

"Yeah." Louisa paused, not exactly sure what to do with the girl. They couldn't let her go, and they couldn't just shoot her out of hand, though Dunn clearly wanted to. "I guess we'll have to take her with us. Tie her up or something."

"Yes, ma'am." One of the infantrymen produced a roll of duct tape and used that to bind Adams' hands behind her, and tape her mouth shut. She didn't resist. For added measure, Harris ripped the laces from the Adept's boots; if Adams tried to run, her boots would rapidly come off, and trying to walk through the Virentofta mountains without boots was asking for frostbite. They led her down the hill. "LC Musashiya's got the column stopped," Harris told Louisa. He paused as well. "I think she's pissed."

"I'll be down in a minute. Go on, Lieutenant." He threw her a salute and headed after his men. Louisa thought about having Habersohn finish off the Skulker, but decided against it; maybe they could drag it back when the mission was over. She stuffed the map inside her coat, then saw that Dunn was inspecting the body that hung from the Skulker's hatch. "Hitomi, let's mount up."

"Okay, boss." She shook her head. "Man, where did the Wobbies find this guy? He's got two hundred C-Bills worth of gold in his mouth. I thought even the Deep Periphery planets quit doing that." Louisa noticed the knife in her hand. The grenade had been left on the Skulker.

"Don't you even think about it, Hitomi."

"About what? Doing some gold mining?"

Louisa walked up to her. "Hitomi, I do _not_ have time for your shit. Mount up now, or I swear I will Dispossess your ass right here and make you walk back to Belgrade. Sergeant Weltjens is a qualified MechWarrior. You can be replaced." Dunn blanched; being stripped of her 'Mech was the one thing that frightened her. She sheathed the knife in her boot and snatched up the grenade. "Gold mining. What the fuck is wrong with you?" Louisa snarled as she walked past.

Dunn narrowed her eyes, though she didn't quite meet Louisa's gaze. "They do that, you know. The Wobbies. I heard they did it on Dieron. When they weren't committing genocide, anyway." It was Louisa's turn to go a little pale. Dunn's family was on Dieron.

But she couldn't let that go. "We're not like them, Hitomi. There's a big difference between the Wobbies and us."

"Yeah. We live here." Dunn turned her back on Louisa and walked to her _Spider._


	6. Screams in the Night

_**CHOOSERS OF THE SLAIN**_

_**A Battletech Short Story**_

_**By Sentinel 28A**_

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: Damn, it's been six months since I updated this. Real life intruded, unfortunately, and between work, getting ready for convention season (which included writing two short stories for reviews by professional authors), and maybe finding a publisher for my _real_ novels, it was a pretty busy spring. Not helping was the fact that, other than those two shorts, I really didn't feel much like writing anything. But, once more, thanks to reading other peoples' stories (like Rogue's and Kat's), I started getting the itch again. After a three-hour _The Pacific_ marathon—again—here we are. I'm going to try and finish this story before the end of summer…no promises though…_

_REVIEWERS' CORNER:_

_Mosin: Thank you. I'm going for grim 'n' gritty this time. After watching _The Pacific_ and its concentration on the worm's eye view of warfare—and the sheer brutality of same—I'm trying to get the same thing across with 60-ton walking tanks. As the saying goes, war never changes._

_Cire4768: Thanks! Sorry I've been so slow getting you new material._

_FraserMage: Quite possible. The Adept was basically a NPC, and a way for me to point out that the Blakists, for all they've done to the Battletech Universe, are at heart still human beings. _

_Rogue: Oh, I remember now about the Whitesnake video. Heh. _

_ACDoubleEdge: You're welcome. And antimissile systems don't stop Arrow IVs. It would be like trying to stop a Scud with an assault rifle._

_MUSIC CORNER: Gotta return to Klaus Doldinger's _Das Boot_ soundtrack again—this time, the (again, with feeling) claustrophobic "Eingeschlossen." And since I got the idea of the bridgelaying from _A Bridge Too Far, _the march from that film works pretty good too. (I'm tempted to include Devo's "Workin' In a Coal Mine.")_

* * *

"Well, _that_ was stupid," were the first words out of Priss Musashiya's mouth when Louisa met her at the base of the hill. Musashiya had gotten out of her _Awesome_ only at Louisa's request, and was obviously trying to suppress a shiver. "You should've waited for the infantry. That's what they get paid for. You're in command, Louisa, which means you don't run around doing dismounted ops."

"I'm not going to argue with you," Louisa responded testily, mainly because Musashiya was probably right. She unrolled the map as Pryce, Fencer and Dore jogged up. They looked considerably warmer. "But I did find this."

"Son of a bitch," Pryce grinned. "That's worth getting Priss all riled up."

Musashiya spared him a glare, but nonetheless she pored over the map as well. It wasn't much intelligence-wise—just a clearprint of the area between Toston and Three Forks—but the grease pencil marks on it showed the disposition of every WOB force in the area. "Looks like you were right about Route Brittany. They've got minefields all over the place and artillery presited on it."

"Doesn't make me feel any better. Looks like we're taking Gina. You'd better be right about those bridges, Sarge," Musashiya addressed the big engineer.

"You bet your sweet ass, ma'am!" Dore grinned.

"I _am_ betting my sweet ass," Musashiya shot back, annoyed at his enthusiasm. MechWarriors privately agreed that anyone who wasn't a MechWarrior had to have something wrong with them, and engineers were the worst of the bunch. "You said two hours—" Musashiya stopped herself, realizing she was taking command again. "Um, what do you think, Major?"

Louisa smiled. "Two hours, Sergeant?" Dore nodded. "Okay. Let's do it." They separated, leaving Musashiya and Louisa. "God help us if he's wrong," Musashiya said quietly. "It's already almost one. The sun comes up at five. If we're still stuck on the river crossing, the Wobbies are going to eat us for lunch."

"We'll make it." Louisa began to roll up this map, thought of something, and pointed to a symbol scratched over the positions of the 63rd Battalion. "What's this symbol mean? Do you know?"

Musashiya peered at it, then looked closer. Even in the darkness, Louisa could see the other woman blanch. "Yeah. They're going to hit the 63rd with gas in the morning. Guess we shouldn't be surprised…the Wobbies nuked Outreach, after all."

Louisa's stomach seemed to turn over. MechWarriors were protected from chemical attacks in their machines, and the tankers likewise had an overpressure system in their vehicles as well. Infantry in the open like the 63rd would be extremely susceptible to a gas attack, especially if they didn't have any sort of countermeasures like chemsuits or gas masks. Louisa had a bad feeling that the Virentofta Militia didn't have either. Chemical warfare was so rare in the Inner Sphere that hardly anyone even prepared for it anymore. The Sentinels held gas drills about once a year, and were considered overly cautious for doing it. Louisa wondered how Musashiya even knew the symbology for it.

Without a word, the two commanders parted. Louisa rolled up the map at a run.

* * *

It took an hour to get to the crossing site. Louisa's spirits rose with each kilometer they weren't detected. So did the terrain, but TF Valkyrie was able to keep a ridgeline between them and the nearest Blakist unit. It meant a northward detour up one valley and then down another, but no shots came from the darkness, or flares marking someone spotting them, or artillery. The weather had closed in again, with a cold drizzle.

She scanned the ridge with infrared in the cockpit of her _Nightsky._ There was nothing there, not even game. She tried to stave off worry. _Could they hear us, maybe? You can feel a 'Mech coming long before you see it. It's not like we can muffle our feet._ _Tanks make noise, too. Their tracks squeak. Even hovertanks hum and whir kind of loud. I don't know how the hills work. Does noise echo, or are we in an acoustic shadow?_ Louisa had read about that in school. There had been a battle in the Fourth Succession War where Davion and Liao units had been fighting, separated only by a two-kilometer wide ridge. Neither wing of either army could hear the battle of the other wing due to a phenomenon known as acoustic shadow, where the terrain actually blanked out the sound of fighting. _I wish I hadn't failed physics. Maybe Dore knows…I should probably go check on him. He's probably chewing his nails over that river._

As Louisa dismounted, fearing that she was in a sniper's sight the entire time, she commanded herself not to worry. The Blakists, she reasoned, couldn't be everywhere at once. They didn't have the manpower to cover every avenue of approach any more than the Sentinels did. And if she had been detected, they'd know it soon enough. She had Musashiya's lance covering the rear, with her command lance in the center and the tanks fanned out behind the raised berm of a railroad track; Virentofta still used ancient-style rails rather than maglev lines. It made a great defensive position, because the tanks could stay hull down, exposing only their turrets. She returned Pryce's wave and jogged to the top of the berm.

At once, she felt terribly exposed, resisting the urge to drop down. Despite it being dark, she could see that, to the north, the Vingaard River flowed out of the near-canyon to the south, passing between a few ridges before going into an open plain. There was no cover that way, and she could even see lights on the distant highway, which was being used by the Blakists. To the south, two mountains rose like guard towers. _I've got to put people on top of those mountains,_ Louisa thought with alarm. _If the Wobbies get anyone up there, we are screwed._ She scrambled down the other side of the berm to the river.

To her surprise, Dore was nearly beside himself with joy. "Major! Check this out!" He pointed at the river. "Did you know about this? It wasn't on the map!" She saw what he was pointing at: serried across the dark, rushing water of the river were what looked to be three hills. "It's an old railroad bridge!" Dore exclaimed. "It's gotta be a hundred years old!"

"That's great…I guess." Louisa really didn't see what the big deal was. She could now see the hills were abutments, but the bridge was long gone.

"It's fuckin' awesome!" Dore forgot ranks in his happiness. "I can anchor the bridges to the abutments. I don't have to use suspension or anchor the whole friggin' thing to the banks. Oh, Major, this is gonna be easy! A lot easier than I thought."

Louisa felt herself returning Dore's grin. The engineer's enthusiasm was contagious. "Well, don't let me stop you, Sarge. Get to work."

"You got it, Major!" Dore began organizing his engineers. Already the first Aardvark was up to the bank, and with the hiss of pressure and whine of servomotors, it began extending out the bridge.

Fencer walked up to Louisa. "Is Sergeant Dore having fun yet?"

"I think he doesn't realize we're at war."

"Oh, he does—he's just at war with the river." He motioned at the high mountain across the river, just south of the crossing. "I sent a Lynx with Sgt. Eastwood and Sgt. Harris across a few minutes ago. They should have some infantry on top of that mountain any minute now."

"I should've thought of that earlier. What about the Toston Dam? The Wobbies have got to have a LP there."

Fencer chewed his lip. "I should've thought of _that._ Naturally, they're going to watch the dam. That's the power for the whole valley there." He shook his head. "I don't think we should send any troops down there, Major. We'll just have to have Harris keep an eye on them. We just don't have the manpower to spare, and if someone starts shooting…"

"Yeah." A sudden loud squeak as the bridge extended its full length did not brighten her spirits any. Her heart leapt when she saw a red flash from atop the mountain, and only relaxed a little when she saw Fencer answer it with his red flashlight. "Well, at least we have an OP up there now."

"They'll let us know if anything's up." He winced as another squeak came from the bridge. He glanced at Louisa. "You know, Major…it's going to be an hour or two before he gets the bridge ready. Why don't you get some sleep?"

"Is it that obvious?" Louisa had not looked in a mirror recently, but was sure she didn't look particularly prim and fresh.

"To an old warhorse like me, yes. When _was_ the last time you got some rest?"

"I…" Louisa sighed. "I honestly don't remember." The DropShip ride down had been no place to rest, then came the hurried greeting and briefing from her parents, the drive down to Belgrade and the ambush, and the organizing of TF Valkyrie. "It's been about 16 hours, I guess."

Fencer put a fatherly hand on her shoulder. "Then go take a power nap. We can do without you for a little bit." He winked at her and returned to his Lynxes.

Louisa decided to take that advice. Max was always admonishing Sheila for not getting enough sleep, especially during operations; Sheila invariably got sick after a long campaign. She walked down the berm and found Musashiya. "Priss, I'm going to go take a nap, if that's okay with you."

Musashiya, a radio headset on one ear, was breaking open a ration pack and looking dubiously at what was supposed to be an egg and sausage muffin. She looked up, a little surprised. "Um, sure. Go ahead." She paused and Louisa turned to walk back to her 'Mech. "Y'know, Major, you don't have to ask permission. You could just order me to take over for a bit."

Louisa didn't know what to say to that, so she smiled in the darkness. "I know. Just being polite."

Musashiya watched her walk away, shrugged, and took a bite of the muffin. It tasted something like plastic. She shrugged again and kept eating. The muffin was gone in a few bites, washed down with water. More squeaks and bangs came from the bridges; Musashiya ignored them as best she could. After one particularly loud bang, she got to her feet and walked over to where Dore was supervising. "Hey, Sarge."

Dore turned and pulled his night vision goggles up over his forehead. The engineers couldn't risk using flares or spotlights, and were doing the job by moonlight, enhancers, and feel. "Oh, hi, um, Lance Commander. Is there something—" He spotted something. "'Scuse me…hey, Quiorra! Move outta the way or you're going to be greasing these bridges with your guts!" A figure scurried over to the shore, out of the way of where the first bridge was being folded out. "Thanks, moron!" Dore tossed the last at the figure's back, then returned his attention to Musashiya. "Sorry about that. What's up?"

"The Wobbies downstream called. They said you're keeping them awake with all this racket."

Dore ruefully grinned. "Sorry. I'll do what I can."

"You might want to. The artillery'll hit you first."

"You have a point there. Where's the skipper?"

It took Musashiya a moment to realize that Dore was talking about Louisa. "She's racked out for a bit."

"Oh, okay. Anything else?"

It was Musashiya's turn to grin. This was Dore's turf, and she was trespassing. "Nope. Try and keep it down, Sarge."

"Yes'm." Dore turned back to his bridge and promptly forgot about her. Musashiya made her way back to her 'Mech and sat down on its foot. She leaned back against the thick leg of the _Awesome_ and watched the engineers work.

It went surprisingly fast. The engineers were good at their work; the rest of the Sentinels looked on them as being somewhat bizarre. The rest of the regiment rarely saw them work, and some of the quicker campaigns the engineers didn't even participate in. They rarely saw combat, though they underwent regular and vigorous infantry training, and few won medals for their work. But they were proud and rightfully considered themselves elite, and Musashiya found herself fascinated as the first bridge was placed, then the second. The abutments were checked by men and women hanging from ropes above a fast-moving river that would probably kill them if they fell in. A brief rain squall came up and promptly soaked everyone—Musashiya was dry under the bulk of her 'Mech—but they kept working.

Dore came plodding through the muddy ground over to her a little while after the rain had gone, still grinning. "Lance Commander, we're finished."

Musashiya checked her watch. "An hour and fifteen minutes? Well done, Sergeant."

"Thank you, ma'am. We would've been done earlier if it wasn't for the rain."

"Go get some dry clothes. I'll wake up Lou—ah, the Major."

"I'm fine, Lance Commander. Couple more small things, that's all. You can start crossing anytime." The last was directed at Pryce, who had come out of his tank and walked over. Without saying a word, he turned and ran back to his Demolisher, giving the signal to the driver to start the engines. Musashiya threw Dore a salute and had it returned, then walked towards Louisa's _Nightsky._ She shook her head at Dore, briefly watching the burly man jog back to his bridge. _The crazy bastard's enjoying this,_ Musashiya thought.

"Hey, Priss!" Yurika Misumaru simply was never going to learn how to address by rank. "Are you going to wake up Louisa?" She ran up to Musashiya's side.

Musashiya briefly considered letting Misumaru do the honors, but dismissed that notion; it was her responsibility to keep her commander informed. Not that it made a difference: as Musashiya went up the stanchions set in the _Nightsky's_ chest, Misumaru followed her up.

She reached the slab-sided side of the 'Mech's head and put one hand on the hatch to open it. She stopped when she heard Louisa's voice on the other side. Yet the other woman wasn't speaking on the radio or in a normal voice: her voice was strained, the words unintelligible, until a single shout came through the hatch, muffled by its armor. "Don't leave me!" Louisa yelled. "Don't leave me!"

Misumaru heard it and sighed. "Oh, man. She's having _that_ dream again. I'll handle this, Priss." Like a monkey, Misumaru clambered around Musashiya, undogged the hatch, and climbed in.

"_Don't leave me!"_ Louisa screamed, loud enough that Musashiya saw heads turn on the ground below. She ducked her head into the hatch. Louisa was leaned back in her seat, her fingers dug into the side of it, her arms tightened. Her eyes were closed, but sweat poured down her face. "_Kami,_" she breathed. This was too intimate. She didn't want to see this.

Misumaru straddled Louisa, grabbed her collar lapels, and shook her. "Hey, Louisa! Wake up, girlfriend!" She shook her again.

Louisa's eyes flew open, wild, and she gasped. "Wha…what…" Her head turned once, side to side, then her eyes settled on Misumaru. "Yur-Yurika?"

"Yep. You okay?"

Louisa reached up, rubbed the sweat off her face. "Uh…yeah. Yeah. I'm okay." She saw Musashiya standing in the hatchway and blushed. "Oh, shit. I mean, are they done?"

Musashiya nodded. "Yeah. Dore just finished."

"Let's move them out, then. I'm good, Yurika. Quit looking at me like that."

"Okay." Misumaru once more squirmed out of the cockpit and past Musashiya, throwing the other woman a wink. Musashiya remembered that Misumaru and Louisa were roommates at the barracks.

Louisa reached down and began powering up her 'Mech. "Anything else to report, Lance Commander?"

"Ah, no. LPs are still out. It rained a little."

"You heard, didn't you?" Louisa sighed and hung her head. "I'm all right, Priss. I get nightmares now and then."

Musashiya turned away, angry with herself. _You keep thinking she's a kid. She's not. _"Yeah, sorry. Me too." She threw Louisa what she hoped was a reassuring smile, closed the hatch, and made her way back down the 'Mech.

* * *

Louisa sighed again. "Dammit," she whispered to herself. "A hell of a time for _that_ to happen." Louisa had trained herself to wake up when a nightmare started—she had several reaccuring ones—but had been so exhausted that her normal defenses had failed her. _Priss probably thinks I'm crazy now. Great._ Then again, there had been that reassuring "me too." Louisa wondered if all MechWarriors had nightmares. Her mother had them sometimes, waking up hyperventilating, never quite screaming and all the more terrifying to Louisa when she had been little, wondering why her mother was so scared. Max would hold Sheila until her breathing slowed to normal and she stopped shaking; Louisa sometimes hid behind her parents' bedroom door. She had never gone to help. To Louisa, Sheila Arla-Vlata was made of the same steel as her left arm, and to see her mother so utterly debilitated frightened her.

"Enough," Louisa commanded herself. She locked the nightmare back into its box at the back of her mind. If she didn't get her act together, there would be more nightmares this morning, probably real ones.


	7. The Devil Inside

_**CHOOSERS OF THE SLAIN**_

_**A Battletech Short Story**_

_**By Sentinel 28A**_

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: Took a little slower to update this than planned, but we're in the home stretch. Probably another two or three chapters and this is in the can. _

_And if you thought the last chapter was grim, try this one for size. It's never a pretty sight when people go kill crazy._

_REVIEWERS' CORNER:_

_Rogue: Thanks as always. Louisa is indeed a darker character. Sheila came into the Clan War pretty much as a clean slate; the worst she had ever faced was hazing at the Nagelring. Louisa got introduced to the horror of war at age six, and you never quite get over that. _

_Fraser: I always figured 'Mechs automatically buttoned up—the 'Mech's computer detected gas, and the overpressure system came on. Over 300 years of no one using WMDs, though…I added in some of what you said here._

_AC Double: Thanks. I just threw the crappy weather in as a plot hook for Louisa's bad memories, but if it's adding to the "atmosphere," that's kewl too._

_MUSIC CORNER: Journey's "Separate Ways," for some reason. Also "Instruments of Destruction" from the old cartoon _Transformers the Movie _soundtrack, and Two Steps From Hell's "Moving Mountains."_

* * *

As Louisa reached the bridge in her _Nightsky,_ she saw that the engineers had not waited for her. They were already guiding Task Force Valkyrie's tanks towards the bridge, using chemsticks to mark out a trail. She looked at the sky. It was still cloudy, the tops of the distant mountains obscured by cloud. _I never thought I'd think this, but thank God for the rain._ If an enterprising Word of Blake fighter pilot had come across the tanks and 'Mechs lined up on the eastern bank of the river, there couldn't have been a better target.

Each tank had to cross one at a time: Ash Weltjens' Ontos weighed 95 tons, and the bridge sagged dangerously as it crossed. The engineers ran onto the bridge in its wake, Dore amongst them, and it wasn't until he gave the all-clear that the next tank was able to cross. Louisa exchanged radio calls with Musashiya, then jumped her lance across the river. She cleared the foaming water easily, and though their jumpjets were not as powerful as her _Nightsky's_, Yurika's _Valkyrie_ and Habersohn's _Black Hawk_ still made it with a few meters to spare. Once the tanks were across, then came Musashiya's assault 'Mechs, the MechWarriors virtually inching their way across, as a 'Mech did not distribute its weight as well as a tank. The Lynxes whispered across in seconds, only using the bridge as a safety net if their hoverskirts failed. Last was Dore's Aardvarks; Louisa would have preferred to leave the engineers behind—the Aardvarks were not really combat machines—but they would be alone, as she could spare no troops to defend them. Louisa wasn't taking a chance on detection. The bridge would be left behind, to be picked up later on. Again, she hated doing it, but short of blowing the bridge behind them—something she didn't want to do and would alert everyone within a hundred kilometers—there was no choice. The task force didn't have the time to pull them up, reattach them to the Aardvarks, and continue on. Louisa watched as the task force shook itself back into formation and as her LP from the mountain returned.

"Green Six, Shovel Six," Dore reported. "All across."

"Shovel Six, Bravo Zulu," Louisa replied, Bravo Zulu shorthand for _well done._ She'd put Dore in for a medal, if they survived. "All Valkyrie elements: Charlie Mike." The river had been the last natural obstacle. From here on in, the obstacles would be man-made.

Louisa unrolled the map in her cockpit and peered at it in the red light of her instrument panel, piloting her 'Mech by feel rather than sight. If it was correct, TF Valkyrie would thread the needle between the river and the WOB units besieging the 63rd Infantry. The WOB evidently only had a thin cordon of troops to the north of Hill 5423; they could not spare troops to have a tight perimeter. _Especially if they intend simply to gas them all,_ Louisa mused. She shuddered involuntarily. A chemical attack was no way to die. The first signs would be a runny nose and being short of breath. Then the victim would lose all control of their motor functions, including their lungs, and they would simply asphyxiate to death. She had seen pictures of people hit by gas: their tongues protruding from their mouths, frozen in their last gasps for air, their eyes blistered but wide open. A MechWarrior's wish was that if they were killed, it would be quick—a Gauss shell through the cockpit, or a PPC blast. Even dying in a nuclear fireball, which would melt a 'Mech and immolate its pilot in microseconds, was preferable to choking to death for long minutes.

And that was if the Blakists were using generic nerve gas. Rumors abounded they had far worse at their disposal. Since the Sentinels had learned of the WOB's willingness to use chemical weapons, overpressure systems and filters were checked regularly, but that was because Sheila Arla-Vlata believed in preparedness. The Virentofta Militia, which would not be expected to fight away from their home planet, which itself was far away from WOB holdings, had no defense against chemical attacks; Louisa was sure that none of the 63rd had even rudimentary training in surviving such an attack, much less the chemsuits and atropine they would need. That was one reason the Word of Blake had been able to win so many early victories in their self-proclaimed Jihad. Chemical and nuclear weapons were supposedly outlawed, and aside from isolated incidents in the Succession and Clan Wars, no one had ever used them on a wide scale. Therefore, no one trained any longer for such an event. Louisa noticed the terrain, which had been level plain, begin to change to rolling hills again. Her chronometer read 0200 hours.

Then the northern horizon lit up.

"Green Six, Wolf Six! Enemy contact!" Musashiya shouted. She was on the right flank, while Louisa was out front; the tanks were bringing up the rear, with the Lynxes on the left, paralleling the river. Louisa's eyes shot towards the map: there was nothing listed there. She then looked in that direction, but in the darkness, only saw laserfire and tracers. Most of it was outbound; Musashiya was doing the firing.

"Wolf Six, I need a sitrep!" Louisa yelled back. _What the hell is she facing?_ She flung the map aside.

When the other woman came back, she was breathless. "Green Six, Wolf Six—enemy is about a platoon of tracked APCs. They just came over the ridge to our north, march formation!"

So it had been a collision. The WOB was bringing troops down to reinforce the cordon, came over the ridge and sighted Musashiya's 'Mechs at the same time they themselves were sighted. Armored personnel carriers against a lance of 'Mechs, even one of which outweighed the entire platoon: it was a gross mismatch. "Wolf Six, Green Six, engage as necessary, but do not stop! Your objective is Hill 5423!"

"Roger that," Musashiya replied, with a trace of irritation. Louisa had to remind herself again that Musashiya knew what she was doing. Noticing in her sensor monitors that TF Valkyrie was starting to get strung out as Musashiya's assaults began to be left behind, Louisa sent a message to slow down over the company net. She didn't want to stop completely, but neither did she want her force to get spread out. Louisa was coming to the top of a small ridge, and crossed it.

Spread before her, in a fallow wheatfield, was an artillery battery. Several of them.

Louisa stopped, almost involuntarily. She didn't have to look at the map to realize that this was not where the batteries were supposed to be. They were supposed to be well to the northwest. She switched to infrared and saw the artillery pieces—Snipers, she noted in passing, tracked 155 millimeter howitzers—were still warm. The WOB had deployed early. The prime movers that carried the Snipers' ammunition were not yet in place, still in trail from the march. The artillerists had just stopped to deploy, probably waiting for the infantry in the APCs to put out a perimeter before sighting in the guns, loading their gas shells, and waiting for dawn to begin firing against the 63rd, who, with no artillery of their own, would be able to do nothing but die under smothering clouds of chemicals.

It would be a massacre, not unlike the one that had claimed her own parents and sister.

Louisa felt her rage building. "Green Six to all Valkyrie elements. Enemy contact. Multiple artillery batteries at grid 24526. General attack: engage and destroy." She paused. "Kill them all." General attack released the 'Mechs and tanks to attack, engage, and destroy at will. Hill 5423 would keep: in the meantime, Louisa wanted to ensure that these artillery pieces never fired a shell, chemical or otherwise. Orders given, she charged into the midst of the battery.

The Blakist artillerists saw four 'Mechs and then heavy tanks come over the ridge. Some bravely stayed with their pieces and began slewing them around: a 155mm shell could do a lot of damage to even a 'Mech. Most ran for their lives: softskinned Snipers, prime movers, and trucks would not stand a chance against 'Mechs or heavy tanks. They ran northwest, away from their attackers, only to witness a even more terrible sight: four assault 'Mechs topping the hill. Musashiya's 'Mechs had destroyed half the APC platoon and were still moving in accordance with their last order. Musashiya advanced into the midst of the batteries.

The wheatfield turned into a charnel house. Prime movers, stocked with shells, brewed up into fireballs; the chemicals would be consumed in the fire, but that was no consolation to drivers and loaders killed by flying debris. Howitzers exploded, their gas tanks adding to the suddenly well-lit area. Louisa noticed Hitomi Dunn's _Spider_ picking off individual soldiers with her lasers, but could not watch long, as she swept her hatchet upwards, neatly separating a truck's cab from the body and flinging it, and its driver, skyward. The radio net was filled with yells of triumph and shouts of glee as Task Force Valkyrie went berserk with bloodlust. One part of Louisa shrilled that this was wrong, that she should not lose control of her force, that she was diving headfirst into the same gutter occupied by the Word of Blake, but she shut that away. She _wanted_ this, she _wanted_ the blood. The WOB troops running from her in terror filled her with savage joy and darker emotions that she dare not acknowledge but felt nonetheless. And they felt _good. _She crushed a fleeing jeep with a foot and laughed aloud.

She looked for more targets, causing the _Nightsky's_ head to swievel from left to right. Nothing. In her immediate area, everything was dead or in hiding. She switched to infrared and spotted someone lying still in a copse of bushes, giving off heat; the shadows to either side were rapidly cooling. She turned and laid her crosshairs onto the glowing figure, raising her large laser. The figure had been glowing orange; now it turned red and parts even began to shade to white. Abruptly, something she had read somewhere or heard from someone popped into her mind: in infrared, when a person got scared, their body heat increased—they were literally turning white from fright.

Louisa blinked. The red haze suddenly cleared. She felt herself breathing hard, her chest feeling tight, her legs trembling, her mouth dry—and it wasn't from the exertions of the fight. _Mother of God, what's wrong with you?_ she asked herself. _This isn't you, stop it! Stop it right now!_

With reluctance that surprised and horrified her, Louisa turned away from the bushes and switched back to vislight. "Valkyrie, this is Green Six. Break off. Repeat, break off. They've had it. Reform at grid square 24536. Lance commanders, acknowledge."

Dore, whose engineers had first held back and then detoured around the carnage, was the first to acknowledge. Then, slower, Fencer, Pryce, and finally Musashiya. The 'Mechs and tanks made their way through the flaming wreckage that a scant five minutes before had been three full WOB artillery batteries, trains, and security elements to the rally point. None showed more than superficial damage. With hand signals, the task force shook itself back into order and headed for the hill. Louisa, looking down at her now still legs, consulted a list of radio transmissions placed in one of the shorts' clear pockets. "Batman Four, Batman Four, this is Green Six. Come in, please."

She repeated it twice before there was an acknowledgement. "Green Six, Batman Four. Who the hell are you?"

"Batman Four, Green Six is Task Force Valkyrie. We are approaching your lines from the north and request you hold fire."

There was silence for fifteen full seconds. "Green Six, authenticate."

The codes were in the list as well. "Batman Four, authentication is Nevermore. Repeat, Nevermore. Countersign."

Another pause, shorter. "Green Six, countersign is Eclipse. Repeat, Eclipse." Pause. "Holding fire, and thank you for coming. You're an angel of God."

Louisa caught her reflection in a secondary monitor. She could not make out her own face, only the neurohelmet and its visor. She didn't feel much like an angel.

* * *

Hill 5423, in peacetime, was a roughly flat mesa with moderately thick forest cover and two natural springs. To the west was a wide glacial valley before the terrain once more rose in steps to tall mountains. To the east was a somewhat steep grade falling away to the Vingaard River, then the rolling hills; in the distance, the lights of Belgrade reflected off the rain clouds. The south was nearly a cliff that dropped to another valley floor. The north, the approach that TF Valkyrie took, was a gradual slope down to more rolling hills. Louisa reflected that she would like to visit the area after the campaign was over—_if_ she survived and _if_ the Sentinels won. Though, she mused, she might want to wait a few years until things had grown back.

Now, Hill 5423 was a fortress. The trees had been cut down and a trench dug around the perimeter, with barbed wire strung around it haphazardly. The felled trees had been turned into bunkers, with dirt heaped on top of them. Louisa was warned to stay between two white stakes, as the defenders had set out antipersonnel and antitank mines. They crossed inside the perimeter, and Louisa made her way to a group of bunkers where a single, solitary Virentofta planetary flag flew. Leaving Musashiya to determine how to set out preliminary defensive arrangements, she dismounted from the _Nightsky_ and climbed down.

Immediately the smell of the hill hit her and she nearly gagged. It was a combination of human sweat, blood, urine, and feces, combined with cordite, churned earth, wood smoke, and something rotten. A ragged figure wearing the rank bars of a lieutenant came up to her. "Are you Green Six?"

"Yes."

"I'm not going to salute you, Lance Commander," the man said, seeing her rank tabs, "we've been taking sniper fire for hours." He grinned. "But I damn sure am going to hug you." And he did, enfolding her and squeezing her tight. Louisa's nose wrinkled at the unwashed smell and she was taken aback by the affection a total stranger was showing her. He pulled back. "Sorry, ma'am. Just damn good to see you. Caught up in the moment."

She decided not to be offended. This man looked like he had been through the proverbial wringer. "Um, it's okay. I'm Lance Com—er, brevet Major Louisa Arla-Vlata. You are…?"

"Ulquiorra. Roger Ulquiorra. Brevet Captain." He suddenly turned somber. "You were probably expecting Lieutenant Colonel Tazewell. He was killed yesterday in the first attack. Captain Vincent took over, but a sniper got him around midnight. In fact, it might be a good idea to get undercover. I don't _think_ any snipers would be stupid enough to fire with a company of 'Mechs and tanks here, but you never know." He motioned her into a nearby bunker. The wood was badly chipped and boughs lay on the damp ground. Considering it had been built in haste, it was comfortable and it was safe, though she avoided the slits built into it; just the word sniper had made her feel naked. She nodded at the other two people in the bunker, who huddled next to a radio, then accepted a steaming mug from Ulquiorra. Louisa thought it was coffee and was surprised to find it was chicken soup.

Ulquiorra sipped at his, then seemed to remember something. "Did you say _Arla-Vlata?_ Wouldn't that make you—"

"I'm Sheila Arla-Vlata's daughter, yes," Louisa confirmed. "Look, Captain, we really don't have time for niceties. I shot up a couple of artillery batteries on the way in, which will buy us some time, but the Wobbies are not going to tolerate an infantry battalion and a mixed arms company sitting in their rear area for long."

Ulquiorra nodded. "I understand. Sorry…this is kind of new to me. I'm not a professional soldier. I'm a school teacher, except for one weekend a month and two weeks a year. We're militia, not pros like the Sentinels." He looked to her, and Louisa was surprised to find he was waiting for orders.

"What's the situation?" she asked.

Ulquiorra seemed reluctant to say, and then the words came spilling out. The 63rd Infantry Battalion had been called up as support for the Snowbirds, who were moving west out of Belgrade, but had not been expecting to see action for a few days yet, as the Blakists had been reported making for the planetary capital at Last Chance. When the Snowbirds had instead run into the 7th Division advancing south and got into a confused battle at Three Forks, Lieutenant Colonel Tazewell had tried to do something to turn the tide in the Sentinels favor. Loading up his infantry in his APCs and on top of two platoons of Scorpion light tanks, he crossed the Vingaard over the Toston Dam, intending to drop squarely into the Blakist rear: militia or not, no commander wanted an enemy battalion loose behind him.

Unfortunately, Tazewell had not counted on a rain-swollen river delaying his passage, or that the Snowbirds and the 7th would break off their battle and mutually pull away from each other. Instead of an impressive _manuever sur la derriere,_ as Napoleon would have called it, he ended up stuck in an open valley, his back to a river, and an angry, fanatical enemy to his front and sides. Tazewell had immediately attempted to retreat, only to find himself cut off even from the river. Seeing that, he had done the only thing possible, save surrender: he had taken up position on Hill 5423, dug in, and called for help.

As Ulquiorra pointed out the 63rd's positions on a rough map, Louisa was impressed by the late colonel's skill. While the battalion had been forced to abandon their APCs, which could not negotiate the forest, they had dismounted the personnel carriers' heavy machine guns and placed them around the perimeter with interlocking fields of fire, in hastily constructed but good bunkers. Barbed wire had been stolen from a nearby farm and strung around the perimeter, along with a trench. Mortars had been emplaced and the five remaining Scorpions dug in as pillboxes, since the perimeter wasn't big enough to move them around much. And the 63rd had waited.

The first attack, Ulquiorra recounted, had been a foolish one on the part of the Blakists. Expecting ill-trained planetary militia that would fold quickly, they had run into a murderous crossfire; true, the Virentofta Militia was only militia, but its higher officers and NCOs had been involved in several battles as the Sentinels fought to hold the planet against the Smoke Jaguars and Nova Cats. The college kids and part-time soldiers were inexperienced, but having heard the atrocity stories coming from offplanet, were determined to sell their lives dearly rather than face brutal capture and certain execution. Tazewell had also let the Blakists get within fifty yards before opening fire. The result was a lot of dead WOB soldiers and a newfound respect for the 63rd. Tazewell himself had died at the tail end of the attack, felled by a stray shot.

The second attack was better planned. This time, the WOB had struck the hill at dusk with artillery and mortars, and sent in the infantry only seconds after the barrage was lifted. "No Manei Domini, thank God," Ulquiorra said, "but bad enough. They got in the perimeter in two places before we managed to throw them back. That was when Captain Vincent got it. Captain Jorgensen was killed when her bunker took a direct hit." He motioned out into the darkness; Louisa could see the collapsed bunker. She could also see the wrecks of three tanks. "They had SRM hunter-killer teams too," Ulquiorra explained, seeing her expression. "Since about midnight, it's just been sniper fire and the occasional mortar, though we haven't heard from either since about an hour ago."

"That's because the Wobbies were getting ready to hurricane barrage this place, probably with another infantry attack." She decided not to mention the gas; there was no reason to panic these people, who were probably just holding onto the last shreds of their sanity. None had showered in three days, and probably none of them had slept much, either. "What's your current status?"

Ulquiorra grabbed at a looseleaf tablet. "We've got roughly eighty effectives right now, with about fifty wounded—half ambulatory." He bit his lip, suddenly trembling. "We…we started with 250." He made a visible effort not to cry, and succeeded.

Louisa did some quick mental calcuation. With eighty unwounded but exhausted soldiers, and despite augumenting that force with her 28-man platoon, the perimeter would still be too large to defend. She looked outside again. Her 'Mechs and tanks were now in defensive positions that would wreck an infantry attack, and she doubted the WOB would have much artillery left. The clouds precluded an air attack, for which she was profoundly glad of. But with a force such as hers behind them, the next attack would be at best heavy tanks, and more likely 'Mechs. If the 7th Division was feeling sporting, they would only send a company of light and medium 'Mechs, but Louisa was sure that someone, either from the APCs Musashiya had shot up or any survivors from the artillery batteries, had radioed that TF Valkyrie had assault 'Mechs. The Blakists were not stupid, and they had enough time to still wipe out Louisa's tiny task force and the 63rd before taking on the Snowbirds.

"Can I take a look around?" The diffuse moonlight was enough to see by, now that her eyes had adjusted to it.

"Sure. Better take the trench, though."

Louisa followed Ulquiorra in a quick tour of the perimeter. They detoured around craters and over destroyed bunkers, Louisa scraping her knees and hands, and wondering if there was a crosshair on her back. Ulquiorra had made brief introductions to exhausted troops, and pointed offhandedly at a misshapen pile to the west, explaining that those were bodies of WOB troops, killed by the machine guns. One body was caught in the barbed wire, and to Louisa's horror, he—or she; Louisa couldn't tell in the darkness—was still alive. One leg was off and blood covered the grayish uniform, the results of a grenade going off at the WOB soldier's feet, but he/she was tangled in the wire so tightly that it served as tourniquets. The figure gave off a plantive, but soft moan, and made an attempt to move, jangling the wire with a metallic sound. Then it stopped. None of the militia spared the WOB soldier more than a glance.

He led her back to the command bunker, under its ragged, bullet-holed dark blue Virentofta flag, nearly invisble in the darkness. They had to go through the hospital first, which was makeshift at best. Medical supplies had run out, and the dirt floor was soaked in so much blood it pooled underneath her feet. She had to suppress another gag at the stench: some of the wounds were already festering, and some of the more badly wounded, and the dead, had voided where they lay. Four medics lay collapsed on the far side of the wall. No one screamed or did more than groan, but that, Ulquiorra explained, tears in his eyes, was because they had used all their morphine to sedate the wounded. "Sorry," he apologized when they returned to the bunker. "I shouldn't have shown you that." For the briefest second, Louisa saw a flash of contempt for her: the high-stepping MechWarrior, who literally rode above the infantryman and fought an antiseptic war of machines, where a warrior rarely saw their opponent and never really wanted to, subscribing to the fiction that they were only killing 'Mechs, not people.

"It's all right. I've seen worse."

Ulquiorra's eyebrows rose in disbelief. "You have?"

"Yes." A phantom smell wafted through her nostrils from old, bad memories: roasted flesh. Once smelled, never forgotten; Hill 5423 had not been hit by flames. She forced back the image of small, blackened hands reaching out forever from a blasted truck, hands that would've been hers if not for a panicked jump and the grace of God, hands that might have been her sister's.

Musashiya came into the bunker. "Louisa, I've got us placed. How does it look to you?"

Louisa motioned her over and said quietly, "Priss, I think we've got a problem."

"Aside from the obvious?" The older woman made a twirling motion with her fingers, indicating the hill.

"I guess. The 63rd's got maybe eighty people fit for duty. The ones that aren't wounded haven't slept in nearly 48 hours. And now that we're here, the Wobbies are going to send 'Mechs."

"So what? That's what they pay us for."

"It's not that, Priss!" Louisa hissed, trying to keep her voice down. "There's going to be nothing left of the 63rd if we try to hold out until the rest of the Snowbirds get here! There's no point in rescuing these people if we're just going to get them wiped out in the morning—they can't hold against another attack."

Musashiya folded her arms. "I figure the Wobbies'll hit us in about two hours; three if we're lucky." She spoke in a normal voice and glanced at Ulquiorra. "What are your orders, Major?" Now everyone's eyes were on Louisa, and Musashiya raised an eyebrow, as if to say, _You wanted command of this thing, Arla-Vlata; I'll obey your orders, but they'd better be good._

Louisa, however, had already made up her mind. She turned to Ulquiorra. "Captain, begin loading your wounded in our Lynxes and the Aardvarks. Everyone who is still upright can ride on top of the tanks. Dig out your two remaining Scorpions and get ready to move."

Musashiya's eyes widened; those weren't the orders she was expecting to hear. "But the supplies and stuff we brought—"

"Unpack and leave it. We'll burn them before we go. Priss, I want the MechWarriors to keep an eye on the woods in infrared. Anything moves out there, we kill it. I don't want some asshole sniper or mortar team plinking at us."

Ulquiorra realized what Louisa meant to do just before Musashiya did. "Yes, Major." He ducked into the hospital.

"Wait, wait—we're _abandoning _the hill?" Musashiya exclaimed. "But our orders—"

"To hell with our orders." Louisa began walking for the entrance.

"Your mother's not going to like this."

Louisa looked at Musashiya with steel eyes. "My mother's not here, Priss. I am."


	8. The Last Full Measure

_**CHOOSERS OF THE SLAIN**_

_**A Battletech Short Story**_

_**By Sentinel 28A**_

_AUTHOR'S NOTES: Sure has been awhile, huh? _

_I've been going through the occasional author review on and noticed that there's been more than a few notes from people asking if I was going to finish this thing. (Including a PM from Texray!) Well, it's been quite the year (almost) since I updated last, or even got on . Some of the reasons are personal and I'd rather not go into that; a lot more has been due to my efforts to do this writing thing professionally, so I've been editing/finishing two novels. Publishing for real is a lot tougher than just writing fanfiction, and I was beginning to wonder if I would ever get back into fanfics. I did dabble a bit in it (check out my short story _A Storm of Snowbirds_), but nothing really solid._

_Then the bug hit, just as it did with _Misato's Revenge,_ and here we are. This chapter doesn't quite finish _Choosers of the Slain,_ but it is the climax and all that remains is epilogue. _

_Thank you for not abandoning this story. I'll try not to stay away for a year..._

It actually took over two hours, though to Louisa it seemed to take two days. It was difficult to move in the dark, especially the wounded, only some of which bore their wounds stoically. The supplies were unpacked and buried: Musashiya worried that setting fires would only outline the hill for WOB artillery. Those troops of the 63rd that could eat did. The Snowbirds policed the ad hoc base, checking for stragglers; along the way, someone dispatched the Blakist soldier caught in the wire with a single shot. Louisa, munching on a piece of ration lemon bread, heard the shot and found to equal parts relief and horror that it did not bother her in the slightest; she finished the cake and went over to lend a hand to the stretcher party.

Finally, it was done. The Snowbird vehicles were packed tooth-to-jowl with the 63rd's soldiers, to the point where most of the able-bodied were riding atop the tanks. That would be bad should TF Valkyrie run into any more opposition, but the Word of Blake seemed to be ignoring them. Louisa sent Hitomi Dunn and Robert Habersohn to scout the base of the hill, but aside from the burning remains of the artillery battery and a few WOB stragglers who fled at the sight of 'Mechs, the immediate area was deserted.

Louisa was glad to get back into the cockpit of her _Nightsky._ It might smell of machine lubricants, steel, and her own sweat, but that was better than the stench of Hill 5423, which Louisa knew she would carry to her grave. Almost as soon as she strapped in, Musashiya radioed, "Green Six, Wolf Six. All accounted for."

"Okay, Wolf Six. Lead them out." Louisa watched as the ponderous _Awesome_ took its place at the head of the convoy, flanked by the other assault 'Mechs, which dwarfed the vehicles and the trees. The Assault Lance was barely scratched from what combat they had seen so far tonight, and were quite impressive. Now the vehicles rolled or floated past, with their precious human cargo. She saw someone waving from the gunner's position on Granville Shade's Lynx and waved back, wondering if it was Roger Ulquiorra. _For a teacher, he fights well,_ Louisa thought. She smiled to herself. _He must've taught at some pretty damn tough schools._

Finally, she waved her own lance into formation as the rear guard, feeling a bit like an ancient wagonmaster. Now all she had to do was get her own task force, plus the remnants of the 63rd, back across the river. That called for a lot of assumptions, which she did not like: she had to assume that the bridges were still up—she had not left guards—that the Word of Blake was not patiently waiting for her to walk into a trap, that the river would be a barrier to the WOB, and that no one broke down. Just like the wagon trains of old, the column could not move faster than its slowest vehicle.

Louisa walked her _Nightsky_ down the hill, the last off Hill 5423. She spared no backwards glance; it was just one more battlefield, and not one to remember. Instead, her mind was on the here and now. Each step the _Nightsky_ took with its thirty-meter stride was one more step back to friendly lines. Louisa felt the fear: not overpowering, but there. She waited for the explosion of a mine, or the detonation of artillery, or the radio report of an ambush. None came, but every second seemed to pass unnaturally slowly. She had read about this, what one soldier-author called the eternity of the moment. Nothing else mattered but that next step.

At last, she was off the hill. She could see the column turning to bypass the still-burning artillery battery. The sky was beginning to lighten a little, and the rain had stopped. Louisa thought she could see breaks in the clouds above. _Maybe it'll be a beautiful day—_

"Green Six, Green Two. Contact report."

Louisa's stomach clenched. "Green Two, go."

"I have enemy BattleMechs at eleven o'clock, six klicks. Unknown strength."

A hundred heads swieveled in that direction, both human and BattleMech. Anything from the north had to be enemy. Louisa peeled off from the column and went to the top of a small rise, zooming in with her 'Mech's sensors. Her mouth went dry.

There was a company of them. Their white paint was pristine and softly glowed in what little ambient light there was. They were marching in column, but almost as soon as Louisa saw that, the column swung out smartly into three lines of four, turning in her direction. "An understrength company," Louisa mused to herself: a full WOB company would have eighteen 'Mechs rather than the normal twelve. It could be a mercenary company. Either way, it was here to kill her and wipe out her column.

There was really only one thing to do. "Green Six to Red Six and Shovel Six. Make your best possible speed to the bridges. Do _not_ wait for us. When you reach the bridges, blow them behind you. We'll cover you."

Dore's voice came back frantic. "Green Six, we're not going to leave!"

"Yes, you will, Shovel! That's an order! Those infantry won't last a second against 'Mechs and neither will your engineers. Bunny Six, I want you to cover Red and Shovel to the ridge above the crossing point. You're the rear guard and fallback position—we'll be there presently."

"Roger that, Green Six." Pryce, the veteran, knew what Louisa intended to do and did not argue.  
"Break. All Valkyrie 'Mech elements, this is Green Six," Louisa addressed her MechWarriors. "We need to buy some time for the tracks. Those are Wobbie 'Mechs over there—let's go kill them."

Louisa could hear Musashiya's grin through the radio. "Roger that, Green."

Her lance fell into combat formation without an order, spreading out: Habersohn brought his _Black Hawk_ alongside her, while Dunn's _Spider_ moved out to the left and Misumaru's _Valkyrie_ dropped back. Each position played to their 'Mechs' strengths: while the _Nightsky_ and _Black Hawk_ were built for slugging matches, the thinly-armored _Spider_ would be best working in behind and making hit-and-run attacks, and the _Valkyrie_ could pour missile salvos over the others' heads. Also without orders, Louisa edged her lance to the left, while Musashiya brought hers down straight at the Wobbies: the assaults would slam head-on into the enemy while Louisa tried to flank them.

Louisa glanced at her battle computer, which identified her opponents: a light, medium, and assault lance. The light lance had two _Nexuses_, an _Eagle,_ and a _Raijin,_ while the assault lance was as heavy as her own, with an _Albatross,_ an _Awesome,_ and two _Thugs._ The light lance was manuevering to meet her, while the assaults accepted Musashiya's challenge. That left the medium lance in the middle—a _Grim Reaper,_ an _Intitiate,_ one of the new _Blackjack_ OmniMechs, and a _Buccaneer._ Louisa had a feeling that the medium lance was the command lance; there was something about its placement, or it was just a combat career that already spanned a decade. Either way, she was sure of it. An idea came to her: a desperate, crazy idea, but one that might allow her to redress the odds.

"Green Six to Green elements," she radioed her lance. "Go for the medium lance! Don't worry about the lights—just go straight at the mediums! That's the command lance!"

No one acknowledged her; they didn't need to. Now was when the training and the experience showed itself: four minds and four 'Mechs had to act as one. Louisa knew that her lance could do it. The question was if the Word of Blake lance was just as good and experienced.

The Blakist light lance turned a fraction too late, obviously expecting Louisa's lance to go for them first. Louisa smiled to herself, seeing her opponent's plan in a flash of her mind's eye: she was supposed to engage the lights, leaving her flank open to the mediums. The lights would then zip past her, to come in behind or move on to engage the vehicles behind her. _Who do you think I am?_ Louisa thought with a snort of derision. _I'm not a noob, asshole. I wonder if you are._

She still had to fight her way through. Two ruby lasers splashed against her armor, leaving long rents in it, but she ignored it. Another sliced into the _Nightsky's_ leg, causing enough damage to sound an alarm. Louisa pivoted slightly, raising her left-arm large laser, and fired back this time, at a _Nexus._ The thinly armored 'Mech shuddered with a hit and took no further interest in her. She saw the other _Nexus_ go down in pieces as Habersohn let fly with eight of his ten medium lasers. Out of the corner of one eye, she saw the _Eagle_ taking missile hits from Misumaru's _Valkyrie,_ and Dunn's _Spider_ was already far out in front, leaping behind the _Intitiate_—and then they were through. She dodged a cloud of missiles that landed behind her, from the _Grim Reaper_, and drove straight at the _Buccaneer._ One look told her much: the _Buccaneer_ had three horizontal stripes on each arm, command symbols. Most units painted those out, since it identified who the commanders were to enterprising MechWarriors who then knew who to kill. That either meant this was a green unit who had not learned that important lesson yet…or someone who was very good; Sheila Arla-Vlata flew a battle flag from her _Shruiken_, daring her enemies to try and take it.

Her mind ran through the _Buccaneer's_ capabilities. It was five tons heavier than her _Nightsky_, slightly faster, and better armed—like her 'Mech, it carried an ER-Large Laser, but instead of her trio of pulse lasers, it carried a single medium pulse and four standard mediums, plus a SRM-6 launcher—and, like her, it had a hatchet. Her one advantage was that the _Buccaneer_ was no better armored, and unlike her, it had an ammunition bin that was perfectly placed to blow the 'Mech apart if it got hit. Nor did it have jumpjets.

The _Buccaneer_ fired first, its large laser tearing armor away from the _Nightsky's_ chest. Louisa stepped to one side, avoiding a flight of missiles, then cut furrows in her opponent's own chest with her pulse lasers. The hatchet suddenly came up, four tons of steel aimed at her 'Mech's neck. Louisa reacted without thinking, dropping the _Nightsky_ down so that the blade just missed her head, close enough that she felt the side of the hatchet scrape against the top of her head armor. _Yikes, that was close._ It ruined her own swing.

They were close to each other now, almost touching, enough that Louisa could see the enemy MechWarrior in the _Buccaneer's_ blocky head module. Both had accepted single combat without communication; the battle raged around them, but for Louisa and her opponent, there was only this battle. She reared back, dodging some of the lasers fired at her, but more rents appeared on her armor. The hatchet fell again, missed, and then was brought up as Louisa came forward with her own hatchet. "Got you!" she yelled, for it was a feint: while the Blakist tried to parry the hatchet, she stepped forward and kicked. She cursed as she missed, but the _Buccaneer_ gave ground. _That's right, you have to watch my legs too, Wobbie._

The Blakist MechWarrior suddenly let loose with everything, risking the heat spike, but Louisa slammed down on her jump pedals, shooting into the air. Only one laser hit, tearing away one of the _Nightsky's_ fingers. She returned fire, her pulse lasers stuttering fire at the _Buccaneer_, and was rewarded with more hits. She came down next to him, ready to exploit the damage. Yet her opponent anticipated that. Even as Louisa felt her _Nightsky_ touch ground again and tightened her fingers on the triggers, the _Buccaneer_ pivoted slightly and hit her with the large laser and a flight of missiles. She raised the left arm, taking the damage there, but her 'Mech rocked dangerously with the damage. Then the Blakist swung his hatchet. It went under her upraised arm and slammed hard into the _Nightsky's_ side, splintering armor. The whole 'Mech shuddered, and somehow Louisa managed to keep her feet. Alarms warbled for her attention, and a wave of heat swept through the cockpit. She turned and fired the _Nightsky's_ head-mounted small pulse, and got lucky: the beam flashed into the side of the _Buccaneer's_ head. Both 'Mechs now staggered away from each other.

Louisa gasped for breath in the heat, sweat exploding from her pores. She knew instantly what had happened. _My engine's hit—that's waste heat being vented so the damn thing doesn't melt down. One more hit like that and I am literally toast._ She looked at the _Buccaneer._ Armor was melted and scored across its chest, but she could only guess at any internal damage. The Blakist recovered and came at her, firing his weapons low at her legs, trying to force Louisa to close the distance into the lethal arc of the hatchet. Once more, Louisa triggered her jumpjets, settling for a small hop to one side. It was enough for the other MechWarrior to miss, but not enough to throw off her own aim: pulse lasers, because they fired in short pulses rather than a continous beam, were hard to dodge. She carved more armor off, but still the _Buccaneer_ remained standing, so she charged in, raising her own hatchet. "Two can play that game," she hissed.

Just as she had reminded the Blakist of her 'Mech's feet, her opponent abruptly reminded Louisa that the _Buccaneer_ had two arms. Without warning, the blunt-ended laser cannon that formed the _Buccaneer's_ right arm was shoved straight at her cockpit. Somehow the head armor held against the impact, which starred the plexiglass of her canopy and sent Louisa reeling. With the enemy 'Mech filling the windscreen, she held down both triggers; so did her enemy. At range human infantry would find uncomfortably close, neither MechWarrior missed—but it was Louisa who lost her balance and went down.

Though it probably only took a second, it seemed to take longer than that for her 'Mech to hit the ground, enough that she tensed and was even able to check to see if the seat straps were tight. The impact caused her teeth to clack together painfully and felt like someone was banging a sledgehammer against her helmet. Alarms were now going off all over, and the number of red lights on her instrument panel told her that the _Nightsky_ had suffered major damage. Seeing the _Buccaneer_ closing for the kill, she threw herself to one side, causing her 'Mech to roll away, but yet more lasers struck her left arm. Louisa only had a second to survey the damage: a heat sink was shattered, her engine was still venting heat to avoid an explosion, armor was virtually gone from the 'Mech's torso and head, and worst of all, the large laser was destroyed, fused into junk and then crushed when she fell.

Then she saw that the _Buccaneer's_ left side was in just as bad of a shape. The rest of the Blakist 'Mech looked fairly intact, but she thought she could see into the torso, through buckled armor plates. Louisa nodded once. _I've got one chance. If I screw up, he'll kill me anyway, so might as well._

Louisa flung her _Nightsky_ at the _Buccaneer._

The Blakist warrior's surprise was reflected in his 'Mech, which seemed to hesitate. Louisa's shots had done damage, and the _Buccaneer_ was unable to bleed off weapon heat as well as the less-armed _Nightsky._ As a result, the fire was feeble and missed in any case. The missiles impacted, but if any found their way into the _Nightsky's_ vitals, they missed anything important. Louisa didn't bother with her remaining pulse lasers: she aimed the chipped hatchet straight at the left side of the _Buccaneer's_ chest. Instead of using the edge, she thrust it forward like a sword. Her aim was true and it slammed into the enemy machine's torso with a _clang_ that she could hear in her cockpit. The _Buccaneer_ staggered back, but did not fall, even as she pulled the arm back.

For half a second Louisa was sure that she had missed. Then small explosions burst free of the _Buccaneer,_ which rose in intensity. The top of the other 'Mech's head blew off and an ejection seat fired high into the air, even as the explosions reached a crescendo as nearly a ton of high explosives—the _Buccaneer's_ SRM-6 magazine—exploded. This in turn caused a sympathetic explosion of the engine, which was contained by its magnetic fields, but the Blakist machine was now a sparking ruin. What was left of it sagged and fell onto the ground, splaying out much as a human would.

Louisa quickly looked around, backpedaling from the destroyed 'Mech. There were others around, and those others were staring at her, if their 'Mechs were any indication—and then the Blakist 'Mechs began edging backward, slowly at first, and then accelerating. They left two of their number on the ground besides the _Buccaneer—_the _Nexus_ Habersohn destroyed and the burning remains of the _Albatross_, which had been caught between the guns of Kagome Sentinel's _Masakari_ and Edward Redrock's _Flashman._ None of the Blakists escaped damage, but though they were still combat viable, their morale was broken. Their leader was down, their enemy was still strong, and there was no point in fighting any longer. As if by mutual consent, Louisa saw her task force also pulling back.

"Wolf Six, Green Six. How're we doing?"

Musashiya came back a little breathless. "Okay, Green Six. Wolf Two's got some gyro damage—" Louisa could see that Mido's _Mauler_ was wobbling as it walked—"and I'm missing my right arm. I don't think we can take another fight." Musashiya paused. "Then again, I don't think they can either. How are you?"

"I'm pretty pounded. Wait one, break. Greens, sitrep."

"Green Two. Got some heat sinks out, but I'm okay." Habersohn's _Black Hawk_ looked like someone had taken a hammer to every inch of it, but Louisa could tell the damage was mostly superficial.

"Green Three. I'm out of ammo, but I'm okay too." Louisa let out a breath at that: Yurika was all right. Her _Valkyrie_ did not look good, but it could take a lot of punishment for its size. That left one.

"Green Four here. Hell, I haven't been touched. Want me to pursue?" Louisa laughed, as she saw Dunn's _Spider_ come loping into view. The little 'Mech was not even singed, its light blue and green paint job still pristine.

"I think we've done enough for one day. Fall back through Bunny. Break. Bunny Six, Green Six, you okay?"

There was no response. Louisa repeated her radio call, then Musashiya followed up with her own. Nothing. Suddenly, Louisa remembered how many Word of Blake 'Mechs had retreated—enough for two lances, counting the losses, but her count came up short three 'Mechs. _Oh God,_ Louisa thought in horror, _that's why we were fighting even odds. They sent their light lance around to the tanks. _The carnage that even a light _Nexus_ could do to the convoy would be considerable.

"Valkyries, step on it!" Musashiya waved her lance forward with her _Awesome's_ remaining arm. Louisa turned and ran for the ridge as fast as her wounded machine could go, her mind filled with images of dying men and blasted vehicles. _My fault,_ she shouted at herself, _my fault. I got all caught up in that single combat, knights in arms bullshit, while the Wobbies massacred the 63__rd__ and my tanks! Louisa, you stupid bitch, they'll break you into small pieces and your mother's going to crucify you and you deserve it, you dumbass—_

She topped the ridge. Before her were the burning wrecks…of four Word of Blake 'Mechs.

Her jaw dropped, and then the realization hit her of what had happened. As they topped the ridge, the Blakists made the same mistake she had, thinking that tanks were helpless against BattleMechs, simply because the 'Mech was the undisputed king of the battlefield, and MechWarriors the knights. Tanks were at best rooks, the heaviest perhaps bishops.

But even rooks and bishops could kill. Pryce had sent the APCs on ahead, trusting to luck that there would be no ambush between the ridge and the bridges, and nestled his tanks hull-down just below the ridge's crest. When the Blakists topped the ridge, they ran into a broadside most 'Mech lances could not muster: a murderous fusillade of eight medium lasers from the Ontos, three PPCs from the Schrek, and a hurricane of missiles from the SRM carrier. That had destroyed the other _Nexus_ and the _Eagle_; the _Raijin_, heavier than the others, fared no better, for it had tried to flank the Ontos and came up against the twin AC/20s of the Demolisher. Not much was left of the _Raijin._

"Green Six, Bunny Six. Sorry about not checking in; my long-range radio went out from concussion damage—I have line-of-sight only." Pryce sounded bored. "What kept you?"


End file.
